Something Unexpected
by The Magick
Summary: It was unusual circumstance that I suddenly found myself amidst the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. They didn't trust me at first. I was a human after all, and a woman besides, with few useful skills to offer. Yet I could not deny the benefits of their protection as I journeyed home to Esgaroth and so strove to remain in their favour...I never expected to fall in love along the way.
1. An Unexpected Meeting

It had been seven days since I had invested my life savings in a fast horse and travel gear.

Seven days since I had fled the town of Bree.

My careful planning had been for nought, however, as despite my utmost care, rumours of my upcoming departure had reached my ward. I had been forced to leave early, quite unprepared, and unable to take the Great East Road - as there it would be only too easy to be outrun and recovered. Luckily there had been one person, one relatively trustworthy friend to whom I had slipped my coins. He helped me escape in the dead of night, handing me the reins of a packed and saddled horse and urging me to not look back.

I had gone north on the Greenway, at my saviour's urging, in order to evade both the eastern road and the marshes. I travelled tirelessly throughout the night, holding my course until early dawn when I abandoned the easy travel of the road to strike east towards the Weather Hills. Only once I had neared the protection of their northernmost foothills did I allow myself some much needed sleep. My world-wise friend had not let me down; following his directions I had seen no other save for some farmer's sheep, and knowing my lack of experience in the wild he had packed me a thick coat, wool blankets, a sharp knife, and as many dried provisions and other supplies as the horse could efficiently carry.

Once rested, I had made my way eastward, keeping to the safety of the hills for as long as I could, but eventually the Lone Lands stretched out before me and, still far in the distance, the great River Hoarwell. This water was deep and fast flowing, and the Last Bridge was the only crossing I knew of. I felt uneasy about the prospect of being forced onto the road, totally exposed in order to reach the opposite shore, but there was no alternative. Until then, I travelled many leagues in a generally south-east direction, planning to stay off the path until I reached the river's edge.

At the end of the week I began to wear down as both my spirit and body grew exhausted. Besides the odd camping venture my father had taken me on as a child many years prior, I had never spent extended lengths of time in the wilderness. It was late May, and the night's chill sapped what little energy I was able to garner from my fear. I was constantly on edge as I tried to cope and survive in the new and rural surroundings I was pushing myself through. I also wasn't accustomed to riding and my legs and back were sore beyond repair.

If my would-be-captors beat me to the Last Bridge, however, my last chance of escape, of returning home, would be lost, and so I carried onwards with as much speed as I could.

And as I rode, I thought about my past...

I was born in Laketown, and I remember being happy there. I was taught how to sit properly in a boat, and how to catch and clean fish. I remember hounding my father to take me with him on fishing and trading expeditions, and on the rare occasion he would succumb and bring me along. We would take the River Running down to the Sea of Rhûn where we would barter for what goods we could - wine from the human settlements and trinkets from the dwarves of the Iron Hills. As I grew older though, Easterlings began to make the route dangerous, and so more often than not I would be left at home, mending the nets with my mother as she told me stories.

As I said, I remember being happy there, once. However, when I was 14, my father departed for a trading venture, but never came home. Word eventually reached my mother that the barge had been raided and my father killed. His body was not found, the river would have carried him to the sea.

After a harrowing year, my mother arranged to have me sent me away with a trader from the west, to bring me to warmer, more fertile lands and the promise of a better life. She had spent the previous months meeting with visitors to Laketown, advertising my abilities and demeanour. Laketown was failing, jobs were scarce, even more so for widows, and my mother did not have the means to sufficiently provide for the both of us.

The friendly, well-dressed young gentleman who finally took me on assured my mother that I would be hired to work at the upper-class Inn his father owned, under tutelage from the other handmaidens, all hand-chosen of course. He claimed I would be paid well, and would be provided a private room for the duration of my employment. She tearfully sent me off, telling me she would write, and that we would see each other again.

That had been just over 8 years ago, and in truth, I had only received a small handful of letters from her. She wrote telling me when she had remarried, and asked me about my life. I sent her short reassuring responses back; I didn't want her to know the truth...

For instance, she did not know that I had fallen in love (or what I thought was love at my naive young age) with that prim, polite gentleman that escorted me westward to Bree. Along route he had enchanted me with his knowledge of the world, his fancy clean-cut clothing, and his effortless compliments. It had been easy for him to lure me close one night, and so I gave myself over to the wants and urges that drive all but the most honourable men to dark deeds.

I also never told my mother that I had arrived in Bree to find that the upmarket inn the man had boasted was simply an old tavern frequented by gruff, unsavoury men. The innkeeper was hardly better, with stern eyes and a quick temper.

I never saw the son again after he had dropped me off and led me inside. So much for love.

I was designated to a tiny, disused room with a little bed shoved against one wall and crates of empty bottles against the other. I earned just enough to pay for my keep, plus the stale, cold leftovers from the previous day. The only other handmaiden working was a foul-tempered old woman, with a permanent slouch and an even more permanent scowl. She had shown me how to clean the rooms and dishes, and I quickly learnt to do everything exactly so, or else she would drag me back to the workspace by my hair and berate me so ferociously I fought back tears. Yet even for all this, I still considered myself slightly lucky - I did not have to work the bar floor after all.

I tried to avoid the common room at all costs when the evening crowd arrived. They were always the same, different men perhaps, but always the same sort: the scourge of society, the ones who had already been kicked out of the other taverns. To be required to serve them would be both frightening and humiliating. It seemed a most unpleasant station, but there were two curvy wenches that held that duty each evening and they, fortunately, did not seem to mind it, being rather loud and obnoxious women themselves.

When I turned 18 however, my luck faded and the innkeeper forced me to learn the rounds in case one of the girls missed a shift. I hated it, hated it more than anything. The men were vile, even more so after a few rounds. Despite my thin, rather unshapely body and plain features (especially compared to the other servers), the guests would delight in trying to grab, squeeze or caress me as I set down their orders, spitting out obscene comments and jeers that made me go red in the face and rush off. Then they would guffaw out loud, pointing and shouting, and would try to embarrass me further the next round they ordered. I simply did not have the persona to handle them.

I dreaded the nights that I had to work that shift, and hoped beyond hope that I would never have to do it full-time. Fortune was not in my favour, however, when just over two years later, Gilda, one of the servers, announced one night that she would not be coming back. The innkeeper subbed me in, saying he had a niece that was now old enough to take over my other duties while I worked the floor. At this point my life became almost unbearable. The only perk was that _sometimes_ I would get tips, and these I usually got to keep - unless I dropped a tray of drinks or a plate of food - in which case I was forced to hand them over to cover the cost of my inadequacy. Trixy, the other wench, tried her best to get me to loosen up. She laughed and said she enjoyed the attention. She played with the men, it was all a game to her, but then she showed me one evening how much she had made, and it was easily triple what I did. So I learnt to tolerate the taunting and sexualized jibes. I plastered a smile on my face as I took drink orders and forced a laugh now and then. I tried not to grimace and jerk away when they touched me. And I saved everything I made, awaiting the day when I'd have enough to travel home.

Things took a turn for the worse when I turned 24. The innkeeper pulled me aside one night after my shift and explained to me that it was not fit for me to continue living under his roof at my age. He told me I had nowhere else to go, and that I had no prospects. He, obviously, could not be expected to continue to provide for me, especially as I would soon be getting too old to work the floor (and no one wants an 'old hag' serving them). He then proceeded to state that the only solution would be for him to take me on as his wife. He would do me that _favour,_ and then one day, if I worked hard enough, we might run the inn together.

I tried to politely refuse, and that was the first time he ever he hit me. He then dragged me to my room and, though I yelled out apologies, he locked me in for over a day. When he finally returned he offered me a small meal and glass of water, and though his voice seemed gentle there was no mistaking the threat his words held. He cautioned me to consider his offer carefully, reminding me that I was alone here. He was _all I had_. I agreed with a smile and told him I would have an answer for him soon but that I very much wanted to write to my mother about his generous offer and receive her consent before I accepted. He set me back to work that evening and for a few weeks he bothered me no more. That time was a blessing, and during such I was not waiting for a letter from home, but instead formulating my getaway.

During the last cold nights of late winter I artfully gleaned bits of information from guests too drunk to remember I'd even spoken to them. I asked the men about who sold horses and for how much, what lie north and south of the borders of Bree, what the weather would be like in the spring, how busy the eastern road was. I was even able to charm my way into being given old maps often carried by the traders that stopped in for the night.

It was then I began meeting with a friend, or so he claimed, someone who had guessed my predicament after I had been trying to weasel information from him. He looked quite as gruff as many of the other foul men of the tavern, often hiding most of his face beneath the hood of his cloak, and so I did not trust him at first. Yet his voice was soft and his words clear, and eventually he had convinced me to let him help. Our encounters were always short, subtle, when the bar was loud and full. He would come for a meal at the tavern and we would correspond quickly while he gave me his food order. For all that, I soon discovered that I had not been secret enough.

Just as I was about to head to my room after finishing my shift one evening the Innkeeper cut me off, roughly yanking my arm and pulling me into his office. He had barely slammed the door behind him when I was nearly knocked off my feet from the force of his hand colliding with my face. He shouted and cursed as he beat me, accusing me of making plans to abandon him, saying how ungrateful I was to consider leaving when I owed the tavern so much. He then marched me up to my room and made me watch while he searched it, ripping apart my few possessions and taking my hidden stash of maps. To my great dismay he also found my carefully hidden coin purse. Years of saving what little I made, gone in a mere instant. He threatened that I would be locked in when I was not at work, and that we would be married that weekend. Then he leaned forward and whispered in my ear that he _owned_ me, and assured me that no matter what, I would be his.

Luckily I knew where he kept a stash of coins for market use. I had literally nothing left to lose and that knowledge emboldened me. That evening during my shift, after my ward had officially announced our betrothal, I was able to slip into the shadows as a diversion was created. After quickly pressing some gold into the hand of my secret correspondent in payment for supplies, I left the Inn once and for all, and was soon galloping out of town under the cover of darkness.

* * *

I took a deep breath and tried to clear my head. I urged my horse to a canter, paranoia still haunting me. I honestly did not expect that he would take very great lengths to track me down, especially after this long. He was lazy, and cheap, but even though I had no reason to, I still felt as if I were being followed.

Finally I realized I was nearing the Hoarwell, but felt my chest tighten in fear as I knew I would then have to follow its shoreline down to the exposed bridge crossing. I decided to stop and rest for a bit during the warmth of the day, and then carry on later in the afternoon to approach the road sometime during the night. I found a small, low-lying area, sheltered by a few trees and errant stones, to set up a temporary camp. After unpacking and tethering my horse, I pulled out a bit of dried meat to chew on and settled on my blankets, stretching out my tired legs.

I must have eventually and unintentionally dozed off, as without warning I suddenly started awake. The sun was still up, but it was low, casting long shadows. I cursed myself for sleeping too long. I had hours of travel before I even came to the bridge, and once beyond it I would still have to venture away from the road once more before stopping for the night. Then I noticed my horse: he fretted and sidestepped nervously, ears twitching. I scanned my surroundings and strained to hear anything above the din of the nearby river, but could make out nothing unusual. I should have packed up and left right then, yet I was tired and inexperienced, lulled into a false sense of security. It was, after all, a very nice day out, and nothing bad ever happened when the weather was fair.

They came on me so suddenly that I had no time to do anything except stand up and skirt over to my unsaddled horse, clumsily trying to grab out my one knife. There were so many of them and when they saw my tiny camp they shouted gruffly, surrounding it and drawing weapons, causing my chest to tighten in fear.

Then they finally seemed to notice me, clinging to my horse and uselessly brandishing a relatively small knife. Nevertheless, I stared at them defiantly, holding my chin up. Working at the tavern, at least, had given me the confidence to hold my own in front of intimidating men, even when I wanted nothing more than to run. It took me a moment to realize that these men were, in fact, dwarves, at least ten of them. There was a tall older man with them as well, who had long grey hair and an even longer beard. He carried a staff and wore a pointed hat, and something ringed in the back of my memory, but I could not focus enough to recall what it was.

"It's just a lone girl." One of them said, pointing his sword in my direction. "There's no one else."

"I've never heard of woman-folk travelling by themselves," another said, "is that typical for humans?"

"It doesn't matter. She's not a threat. We should move on."

"What if she tells someone she saw us? Word travels fast." asked one who had an intricately woven grey beard.

"Aye, maybe we should just do her in and be done with it." replied another somewhat savagely.

The tall man with the hat tutted as he stepped forward. "We will do no such thing." he said sternly. He turned to me then and looked down kindly.

Finally I found my voice and was pleased that I was able to articulate normally despite being incredibly nervous. "Let me be on my way. I have a long journey ahead. I won't tell anyone I saw you here." I said levelly, making a show of putting my knife away as a sign of goodwill.

"We will not harm you." The man said to me gently. "But it is unwise for anyone to be travelling alone, especially off the road. May I enquire as to why you are unaccompanied, and to where you might be heading?"

I hesitated and bit my lip. Some instinct told me that I could trust this man at least, even if the group of dwarves were gazing at me with distrust, their weapons still held aloft.

"Well," I began slowly, "to why I am alone... that is a long story. But I am travelling east."

"Gandalf," one of the dwarves cut in, "we need to move on."

Gandalf. I had heard that name before, maybe only a few times in my life, but suddenly I remembered the title. _Gandalf the Grey._ Of course, this man standing in front of me was a wizard. I tried not to gape.

"There are no human settlements east of here." Gandalf said, looking at me curiously.

"Not nearby." I agreed. I felt my hands might be shaking if I did not keep them busy so I began stroking my horse's neck. "I'm heading into Rhovanion." I added with a glance up at the wizard.

"Now that's interesting." he said, squinting his eyes slightly.

"Gandalf." The dwarf said again, this time rather threateningly. I looked over at him briefly; he was dressed more finely than the others, and had long dark hair, a short-cut beard and an intense gaze.

Gandalf then slapped his hands together. "Well! I've decided. You must join us, for a few miles at least. I would very much like to hear your story."

The black-haired, stern-browed dwarf stepped forward. "No. Gandalf, we have been much too idle on the road as of yet. We do not have the time to pick up strays, least of all human women. I will not allow it."

"Oh nonsense!" Gandalf said lightly, waving him off. "She will be faster than the lot of us; she has a horse if you hadn't noticed. It will do no harm to travel together for the time." he turned back to me. "Well I'm assuming you've heard my name, I am Gandalf." He then pointed in quick succession to each of the dwarves, listing them off and making my head reel. "There's Dori, Ori, Dwalin, Bofur, Bombur, Nori, Balin, Bifur, Óin, Kili and Fili, Gloin, and this here is Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our company. Oh, and over there is Bilbo Baggins."

"A hobbit!" I said in surprise before I could help myself.

"Yes indeed. A most respectable one at that." Gandalf responded, his eyes twinkling. "You can introduce yourself later. For now, pack your things."

I wasn't altogether sure I even wanted to join them, but somehow the prospect of being left behind made me hurriedly oblige and I soon found myself following at the back of the group. The dwarves were all on ponies, Gandalf at the front on a horse of his own; we stayed at a walking pace and I felt, for the first time, that I did not need to rush. In a group this size I would be hidden, and even if I were, by chance, recognized on the road, they surely would not allow someone to abduct me if I started kicking and screaming.

I was safe for now... well, _safer_ at any rate.

We carried on closer to the river and then headed south for another hour before they decided to stop for the night. I hung back, not wanting to intrude on their space, and unpacked my mount once again for the evening. I left sight of the camp and picked my way towards the water's edge to refill my canteen. I noticed a shallow rocky area nearby and stared at it distractedly for a few moments until I eventually picked up the movement. Dorsal fins, swaying above and below the surface of the water. Fish were spawning here, large ones by the looks of it. I bit my lip and pondered my chances. My rations were running low and I hadn't yet had the opportunity to ply the only useful skill I had: fishing. It had been many years, however, since I'd last caught a fish, and hand-fishing was, by far, the most difficult of techniques. My father often took me to the tributaries along the River Running to try our hand at it, more a means of amusement. We would end up soaked and exhausted, with many funny stories to tell of the ones that got away, but over time we got better.

I grinned as I slouched off my pack. After all, why not? I finally felt I had the time to idle, and had nothing really to lose. I pulled off my boots and slowly inched my way into the water, being careful not to splash. As I approached the spawning grounds I began to see the actual forms of the fish under the surface. They were quite sizeable, though I could not be sure of the species until I could see one of them closer up. I rolled up my sleeves and then bent forward, sliding my arms very slowly into the water. I reached out underneath one of them, and ever so softly let my fingers make contact with its underside. I held my breath when it did not swim away and gently slid my fingers up towards its head, then in one swift movement, I hooked on both sides behind the gills and used all my strength to hoist the fish up as fast as possible. I then threw it as far as I could onto shore. I was panting and smiling to myself like a fool, not quite believing my luck. I carried on, slowly stalking the others, for they had moved off a bit. The next one I accidentally nudged too hard, so it swam away before I could grab it, but I was able to secure four more before it got too dark for me to see. I rushed back to shore and ended their suffering, then rummaged through my small bag for my knife and a loose end of rope I knew was in there. When I finally got them cleaned and strung up to carry, just slightly lamenting how fishy my hands would smell for the night, I remembered to fill my water before I grabbed my bounty and headed back to camp, still smiling.

I tapped the first dwarf I came to on the shoulder, eager to pass off the heavy load. He had a funny hat and when he turned to look at me, I was taller than him by a few inches - and he seemed to be among the tallest of their company. It was an odd feeling to look down at a man, but I noticed he had friendly, laughing eyes and so I focused on them.

"I caught some fish," I said quietly. "Too much for me. Could you see to it that they are cooked and shared with everybody?"

His eyes widened when he saw the fish and he suddenly laughed, a ringing melodious sound that caused me to smile in turn. "Now look at that!" he exclaimed excitedly. "How did you manage that by yourself?"

I continued to grin somewhat proudly but simply shrugged and handed him the string of gutted fish.

"Oi, lads! Look here! The little lady has caught us some fresh dinner!" He held up the fish and received some shouts of joy and applause as he brought them over to a rather large dwarf who seemed to be in charge of the cooking. I slipped over to sit down on a vacant stump a bit closer to the fire and tried not to fidget as they all looked at me, some smiling and others with very confused expressions. Soon, however, they all returned to their own business and I was able to relax slightly, enjoying the feeling of safety in numbers and the warmth of the fire as evening's chill set in.

"So how did you catch them?" Someone suddenly asked right beside me, making me jump. I turned to see that a young dark-haired dwarf had sat down, very young it seemed. He did not have a beard at all, just dark stubble. I may not have recognized him as a dwarf at all if his height hadn't given him away.

"With my bare hands." I told him in a hushed, mysterious tone.

He smiled, his handsome face lighting up playfully. "You're not trying to fool me are you?"

I couldn't help but smile back. "Of course not... I grew up by the water, picked up a few tricks."

He nodded but studied me with interest for a moment before he spoke again. "I'm Kili, by the way. Over there, that's my brother, Fili." he nodded towards another dwarf that looked just as young but sported wavy golden hair. I felt my apprehension towards these strangers continue to ebb away as I told him my name in return.

"That's a strange name." he remarked with another smile.

I laughed unexpectedly. "You think _my_ name is strange?"

He talked with me until he was beckoned to grab food for himself and his brother. After a few moments the dwarf with the floppy hat returned holding two steaming wooden plates. He handed me one, I noticed it had a large filet of fried fish plus an array of boiled vegetables and a small piece of bread and cheese. He sat down where the other had left.

"You didn't have to give me anything extra." I said, looking down at my plate guiltily. I knew how fast travel provisions ran out, and I did not want to be a burden on them.

"Don't be silly!" the dwarf said happily. "None of us would have been able to catch a fish, if we had even thought to try - which is unlikely. This is a rare treat; we are in your debt. How did you get 'em? Did you pack a net?"

I explained again how I learnt to hand fish as a child and saw them spawning at the river. He paused; looking at me incredulously then smiled and shook his head. "You are full of surprises!"

As we ate he told me his name was Bofur. I said it over a few times in my head, hoping that I'd remember. I made polite small talk, avoiding too many questions as I didn't want many asked in return. But he seemed eager to chat and had no trouble keeping conversation up, mentioning the weather and what their journey had been like thusly, making friendly jibes at the other dwarves which I didn't quite understand yet. He had a fair, lilting voice and a pleasing accent, so I was happy simply to listen.

After a while I politely asked if he wouldn't mind telling me the names of everyone once more and he spent the next half hour quietly pointing at each one in turn, patiently repeating himself until I could remember... sort of. By that time it was well past dark so I made to get up.

"Thank you... Bofur, right?" I offered hesitantly with a small smile as he took my plate.

"Aye. That's me." He nodded happily. "Goodnight, lass." he replied, tipping his hat with a grin before leaving me to help pack up the leftovers.

I went to lay out my bedroll on the outskirts of their camp and as I curled up under my blanket I smiled.

I went to bed that night happy for the first time in much too long.


	2. Roast Mutton

Extremely early the next morning I forced myself awake before the others and quietly grabbed a few things from my saddle bags. I took a slightly different route down to the river to avoid some of the sleeping forms and came across the group of ponies picketed up in a grassy area. I patted a few of them as I picked my way back down to the river's edge and, after looking around to make sure I was indeed alone, I quickly undressed and waded back into the shallows. The fish had gone, but I had another objective anyway. The current was rather strong, so I didn't dare wander too far out but instead submerged myself at a depth I could still stand up at. It was a cold wash, but I had suddenly become hyperaware of my personal hygiene now that I was no longer alone. When I was finished I dried off as best I could with a piece of leather and changed into my spare pair of travel leggings and tunic. Still shivering, I donned my thick long coat and walked back to camp. By this time the whole group was awake and packing up.

One of the dwarves, Nori I thought his name was, had apparently been sent ahead to scout as he suddenly came jogging into our midst reporting that the road was clear and I felt a wash of relief flood through me. I gathered my belongings together and saddled my horse while the others retrieved their ponies. As the dwarves began to file out of camp, I held my horse back to bring up the rear and began to chew on a tough piece of jerky for breakfast. Though I felt a little less stiff and sore each day as I grew accustomed to the rigors of travel, keeping to a slower pace behind the group was a welcome change that my body thanked me for.

We soon approached the edge of the tree-line and filed out onto the road. As we made our way towards the Last Bridge I could not prevent myself from repeatedly looking back over my shoulder, and thus did not expect Thorin to suddenly call for a stop due to oncoming travellers _ahead_ of us.

The first members of the group had just guided their ponies onto the bridge when three men on horseback appeared at the opposite side at a gallop. They reined in their mounts shortly after hitting the stones, the dust from their momentous approach swirling up around them as they faced down the approaching company.

"Halt!" The apparent leader of the trio shouted, still quite a considerable distance away.

My blood turned cold. It was the Innkeeper, and his hired sellswords. Thorin, after appraising the men from afar and apparently deeming them not enough of a threat to actually stall our progress, lazily urged us onward and allowed Gandalf to take the lead. I swung down off my horse before the men saw me, pulling up my hood and leading my horse along behind the others, heading towards the very person I was trying to run away from.

I heard the murmur of one of the mercenaries carry across the water, though I could not make out what was said, only my _fiancé's _reaction to the council.

"No - I will not be ignored by some halfwit vagabond and his hobbit entourage." The innkeeper surged forth to the middle of the bridge, and his lackeys followed more reluctantly - they, at least, seemed aware that they were facing up against dwarves, not hobbits. Our parties met, and immediately I could tell that my former husband-to-be regretted his decision. His horse skittered back a few paces as Gandalf passed, nodding civilly to the flustered man as he did. Thorin and his dwarves began to pass them by as well, neither slowing nor paying any heed at all to the three humans.

Finally I drew near, and despite being on the far side of my horse and having my hood drawn, my height and slender figure must have given me away.

"That's her." he snarled, pointing down the line at me. I faltered back in fear, tugging my horse a few paces, about ready to jump back to the saddle to make a run for it.

"You'd best come here, girl, if you know what's good for you." he threatened, directing his steed towards me.

Gandalf had halted, and was looking back in his saddle towards the commotion. The rest of the procession had followed suit and I glanced at them pleadingly.

A few of the dwarves then dismounted, casually taking hold of their weapons. The sellswords caught up to their employer, but they worriedly eyed the party that I was accompanying - thirteen burly dwarves armed to the teeth - and made no move to get off their horses. The dwarves stared back, some with agitation, others with mild amusement.

"Get her!" my ward demanded, his face reddening deeply as he gestured in my direction. He swore and looked at his hesitant men with frustrated exasperation. "You fools! What do I pay you for?" He seethed.

From up ahead, I heard Thorin's gruff voice.

"Somebody end this foolish prattling."

An instant later, a weighty rounded river-stone collided with the man's shoulder - hard. I gawped as he clasped for purchase on his saddle, but to no avail. He fell into the river, where he floundered. I looked forward as laughter and cheers broke out, and saw one of the younger dwarves grinning from ear to ear and brandishing a slingshot.

"Move on." Thorin ordered calmly, and so we did. I walked dumbstruck past the mercenaries, who seemed in no hurry to throw their employer a line. I could see they were trying, to no avail, to conceal the smirks on their faces as they slowly unwound their ropes.

I crossed the rest of the bridge, the fading shouts of my ex-fiancé music to my ears, and sighed to myself when we made it to the opposite shore. In my mind, the bridge was the last obstacle to my freedom, and as I put it behind me I was determined to put everything else behind me as well.

* * *

When the path widened, Bofur slowed his pony's pace until I had almost caught up to him.

"Do you want to talk about what happened back there?" he asked, his voice cheery as usual.

I smiled to hide my discomfort. "I'm sorry about that. There shouldn't be any more trouble." I replied, trying to skirt the question.

"If you stick with us, lass, you're bound to see more trouble." he jested with a grin. I smiled back, grateful he didn't interrogate me further.

"You know," he continued after a moment, glancing up at me once more "some of the lads almost took you for an elf when we first saw you yesterday."

I almost smiled. Elves were beautiful, much more so than humans. Yet then I began to wonder what elves looked like in the eyes of dwarves: the animosity between their races was no secret.

I frowned a tad, but kept my voice light. "Hmm, if anyone else had told me that I would consider it a compliment, yet coming from a dwarf maybe I should be offended?"

He laughed at that but did not respond.

"At any rate," I continued, "I'm not sure what would give any of you that impression; I look nothing at all like them."

"Well you're a lot slimmer and taller than the dwarf maidens we're used to." Bofur said idly, trying to keep his pony from veering from the path. "You have a fair complexion and that long, light hair of yours. Plus it's not often you see a woman clad in men's clothing alone in the wild." He grinned up at me.

"It's not often you see a group of thirteen dwarves, a wizard and a hobbit travelling together in the wild either." I chided, grinning. "And these aren't man clothes," I added, self-consciously tugging at my jacket, "...it's woman's travel garb." Truthfully it could have all been men's wear, likely anything my friend could scrounge up cheaply in a short amount of time.

Bofur laughed. "Sure lass, but I've seen women travel in dresses before." He winked at me teasingly.

"Well it must have been very inconvenient for them and I'm sure they regretted it." I tutted indignantly, causing Bofur to laugh melodiously once more.

"Is it true dwarf women have beards?" I enquired after a few moments, hoping it wasn't too inappropriate of me to ask.

"Oh aye." Bofur conceded. "Some have beards larger than the mens'."

"How strange..." I said, wonderingly. "Sorry. I mean, I just couldn't imagine it. I've never seen a dwarf woman before."

"How can you be so sure?" Bofur retorted, tapping his finger to his nose and looking inquisitively up at me from below the brow of his hat.

"From a distance, they're oft mistaken as men themselves."

I made a noise of interest but then had to stifle an unexpected yawn.

"Oh am I borin' yah that bad?" Bofur asked with teasing affront.

I shook my head with a grin. "No, no," I assured lightly. "I just haven't slept well lately, especially last night... you know, one of you snores so loudly I almost felt the ground shaking."

Bofur snorted a laugh. "Ah, you can likely peg the blame on Bombur. If it keeps you up tonight just tell me and I'll give him a slight kick for yah."

We continued talking for a while, then he lit his pipe and we rode in comfortable silence for a while more. I felt energized, almost foolishly giddy after such light conversation and amiable company, and even struggled to stifle an impish grin as I rode. I tried to caution myself to be careful, to not give out my trust too willingly or too fast. I did not know what these dwarves were capable of. Yet even despite my years of dealing with the scum of society, I never lost sight of the fact that there were still good men in the world. My father was a good man, and these dwarves, well they seemed like good men too.

* * *

The next few days slipped by without incidence and the start of June was heralded with fair weather. The pace of the dwarven company was unhurried, and upon finding an ideal camping location, some of the group members argued to stay longer than one night in order to relax a while, let the ponies out to pasture, and, it seemed, mostly to socialize. There was a cheerful atmosphere of reunion among them, yet upon asking I learnt that they had been travelling together a whole month before I had joined them. Every evening they shared stories and reminisced, and I was under the impression that many had not seen each other for a long while before this journey. Oftentimes I would sit next to the hobbit, who also seemed to be an outsider looking in. He informed me that he had joined the group a month previous, but did not know any dwarves at all before that. Bilbo was pleasant enough, but I found he was poor at elaborating and seemed to get flustered easily, so I often kept my conversations with him rather brief.

I kept waiting for the time when I would be asked to leave, or even worse, when I would wake one morning to find the dwarves had packed up and moved on without me. I rationalized that such an unceremonious parting would prove rather awkward, however, as they seemed to be travelling the same general direction I needed to go, and at such a slow pace that even I would eventually pass them. So I kept mostly to myself, trying to be of use where I could, refusing all but the smallest portions offered to me at dinner and watching my own supplies diminish as I picked at them during the rest of the day, for while I welcomed the opportunity to recover physically, it did little to lessen the anxiety I felt facing the reality that what food I had would not last me much longer.

Fortune smiled upon me one evening, however, when I wandered into a glade looking for firewood. As I stooped down to grab a dried branch, my eye landed on something else nestled on the ground.

I picked it up and smiled as I looked up to the trees, finding myself on the edge of a small apple grove. For a moment I debated running back and informing the others of my discovery so that they might come gather some fruit as well, but my excitement got the better of me and I somewhat selfishly wished to once again parade into camp bearing unexpected food as I had done with the fish when I first met them.

I quickly removed my coat and laid it out to collect the apples on, then began checking the already fallen for signs of rot. With little effort I had amassed a small pile, yet the ripe fruit still on the branches was too great a temptation to pass up, so I began to pick the ones within my reach while quietly humming an old tavern tune to myself.

When I heard the branch snap nearby I turned with a smile, expecting one of the dwarves to be approaching. Yet no one was within sight and I realized that the shadows were growing thick as dusk had set in. Hopefully, with a little help, we could collect the rest of the ripe apples and be back to camp before darkness fully enveloped the forest.

"I'm over here." I announced loudly in case they didn't see me - and, if the noise was from an animal, to hopefully just scare it away.

"I'm coming." Someone responded. I peered towards where the voice came from, but was having trouble remembering who it belonged to. Still I could not see anyone, so I took a few steps forward, placing the last few apples I had picked down onto my coat with the others. As I bundled the apples all together, I realized that my meagre pile of firewood lay forgotten next to my harvest, and suddenly I started to worry that my travelling companions would be cross with me for not delivering the fuel as I usually did after dinner.

I had no time to fret over it though, as I suddenly heard the footsteps rush up behind me. A rough hand clamped over my mouth before I could cry out, and I was pulled back and held tight against someone as two other figures soon quietly emerged and approached us. Their height instantly gave them away as men - men I did not recognize.

I struggled against my captor, trying to elbow him while attempting to yell out.

"Keep 'er quiet." The nearest one said, rushing up and drawing a blade. He set it alongside my neck, forcing me to still my movements. "Better." he cooed with a smile as I stared up at him with loathing. I was used to rough treatment by men of this sort, but this was different. I knew what was going to happen to me, and I knew what happened to the girls that made it difficult. I would lose either way, and they knew it.

"Last thing we need is a gang of dwarves showin' up to ruin our fun." the man added, then sneered as his free hand reached up to loosen the tie on the front of my chemise. He had thick stubble and dirty teeth. His short, ill-cut hair was blonde, like my own, yet it was darkened and lank with sweat and dirt, and fell over his forehead to somewhat obscure his eyes. He was scrawny, and looked in need of sleep and a good meal. His comrade, however, was larger, as was the one behind me. I could feel his fat gut against my back, and the arm he had about my waist was thick and unyielding. All three were unkept, greasy. I could smell the odour of the unwashed clothing of the one I was pressed against, the stench of stale ale on the breath of the one with the dagger to my throat. He pulled open the front of my shirt and ran a finger down my cleavage. I breathed hard through my nose as he proceeded to roughly grope one of my breasts. I remained still, despite the revulsion I felt and after a moment he paused.

"Listen here, if you cooperate, perhaps we'll feel... merciful... let you live, you see?" he said musingly, taking his knife from my neck but holding it up in emphasis. "We've orders to do what we like, whatever we like, so long as we kill you in the end. Mayhaps it don't have to be like that, eh?"

With sudden comprehension I knew that these men were sent by the Innkeeper, the man I thought I had finally escaped.

My assassin must have seen the acknowledgement in my eyes as he nodded enthusiastically and began to pace. "Yes. You did our master a great disservice, humiliatin' him an' all. He's a proud man, well, _you_ know. He would rather 'ave you rottin' alongside the road than risk his good name bein' slandered by yourself."

He stopped and stepped up close to me once more. "So 'ave we got an understandin' then?"

I looked him square in the eyes, then dropped my own in acquiescence.

He clucked his tongue happily, tucking his knife back through his belt. "He did say you was a meek thing, even for a liar, and a thief... Give 'er here then, I'm first." He grabbed hold of my arm and I was relieved to feel the other man release his hold on me, I took a breath when his hand slid from my mouth but remained quiet as I knew they were watching me carefully.

"Right then. You behave, we behave." The scrawny one commented as I allowed him to lead me a few paces from the others, further into the tree grove. I knew I had the smallest opportunity, and was waiting for the exact right moment. It was when I felt him slightly stumble that I forced my elbow back as hard as I could into his stomach. As predicted his grip lessened so I wrenched free and lurched myself forward into a run. Yet I had underestimated him.

I cried out when I felt one of his hands grasp at my arm. I pulled away once more, and his nails raked violently across my skin. My flight was short lived, though, as his other hand caught the back of my shirt and I was thrown off balance. He followed me down, pinning me to the ground as he landed on top of me. He cursed as I thrashed and screamed before he could adjust his grip on me. He then forced me to turn and look up at him so he could properly cover my mouth once more. He was stronger than he looked and I began to panic as, despite my best efforts, I could not push him off me. My panic became stronger still when I became aware that he was attempting to undo the laces on my pants. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the two other men had found us.

"You almost let her escape." One of them pointed out gruffly. "Let me have a go. You can barely handle her."

"Oh, just wait yer turn." My assailant replied, ramming his knee down into my thigh to try and still my movement. "Now, we had a deal, but you broke it." he said acidly. "We won't be playin' nice then either."

The sound of someone pointedly clearing his throat - loudly and clearly enough that it seemed obvious his previous attempts had gone unnoticed with all the commotion - caused all four of us to look towards that someone in particular, and while my mind hoped for the largest and fiercest of the dwarves, new panic set in when I saw only a cloaked figure leaning on his walking stick.

Gandalf.

"What are you doing here old man?" One of the unoccupied, larger brutes demanded, turning and taking an imposing step in the wizard's direction. My current attacker hauled me back up to my feet, quickly fumbling to return the knife to my throat as he held me in front of him, his filthy hand reaching around to cover my mouth once more. My eyes widened and I let out a muffled cry as I tried to will Gandalf to leave me. What good could he do against three armed men? Maybe if he fled now he could get help, or at least survive the encounter. He looked up at me from under his bushy brows, his eyes meeting mine with a level of reassuring calm that stilled my racing heart.

I stopped struggling.

"Where else should I be?" He demanded while rising up from his stooped posture, which caused the thug confronting him to gawp. The slender man that held me took the bait, though.

"Anywhere but here!" He snapped.

"I'll be taking the girl." Gandalf stated matter of factly, which caused my assailant to roll his eyes and sigh in exasperation, then nod to the fat man to take hold of me once more. After I was passed off, he stepped forward and pointed his knife in Gandalf's direction.

"Just who do you think you are?" He demanded.

"I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey." The wizard stated, and began steadily advancing on us, and as he did the shadows grew dark as moonless night and rose up all around us, and his voice boomed ever louder "Mithrandir to the high elves. The Grey Pilgrim in the white tower of Minas Tirith. Gandalf Greyhame to the riders of Rohan. The White Rider. I am Láthspell. I am Stormcrow. Perhaps you have heard of me. Perhaps you know that I do not suffer fools gladly. Leave now and let the girl go free." He stated, stopping just short of the first man with his staff brandished.

At that, the men seemed utterly speechless, their eyes darting from the wizard to the encroaching darkness around them. The fat man now holding me, however, decided to speak up - perhaps too stupid to be intimidated.

"You gonna make us, ol' git?"

The scrawny one whirled around and glared at his companion, but it was too late. Gandalf had given them their chance. He sighed, lowered his staff and rested his frame back down upon it. "Me?" He asked, his voice calm and quiet. "No. Not me."

He then looked me in the eyes once more, his glance somewhat apologetic, as if to say 'I tried,' before he tapped his staff on the ground, and from its top a gentle white light pushed back the shadows to beyond our prior line of sight.

We were surrounded by dwarves.

* * *

I never did find out what happened to the three men.

I was gently led away from the scene with Bilbo, Bofur and Ori, while the rest were still debating what to do with my attackers once they were in captivity. Thorin had been tromping up and down the line of men, who had been forced to their knees, bound and gagged almost at once to quiet their pleas. Not that their begging was helping their case, in fact it was only seeming to aggravate the dwarves further.

(Gandalf later assured me that the men were let off after a good scare and with a very stern warning, yet no one made mention of the fact that Dwalin and Nori did not return to the group until much later that night).

Upon re-entering camp, I noticed a fire had been made and was still alight. Someone else had apparently taken it upon themselves to gather extra wood when I didn't return in a timely fashion with my pile. I carefully sat down on a log that had been rolled up and noticed that the two dwarves and hobbit seemed rather at a loss of how to interact with me now.

"I'm fine, really." I repeated gently, urging them to sit down. In truth I had dealt with much of the same at the tavern, and though I had never been in quite as threatening a situation, I knew that if I had stayed, I likely would have at some point.

"Are you sure, lass?" Bofur asked, lowering himself onto the adjacent seat and looking at me carefully.

I nodded, and averted my gaze, feeling somewhat ashamed.

"Her arm." Bilbo suddenly stated. I looked down and saw my white sleeve had a few small dark blotches on it and was sticking to the scratches I had acquired trying to escape.

I shook my head in assurance. "Nothing serious, they aren't deep."

"Aye, but they should still be cleaned. Might I see?" Bofur asked somewhat uncertainly.

I hesitated a moment but then held out my arm. He carefully pulled up my sleeve to reveal the shallow lacerations that marked my forearm. Bofur turned and addressed the younger dwarf that was with us.

"Ori, go back and fetch Óin." Bofur asked. "He has some knowledge of healing." he added to me as Ori left our line of sight.

Some of the others returned with Óin as well. Thankfully someone had grabbed my jacket, apples and all, so I felt some consolation that at least my ordeal wasn't for nothing. Soon after having my arm cleaned and wrapped, Thorin arrived.

"Was there really no sight, no sound of them trailing us?" He demanded, pacing around the fire. "These were not trained men. They were no more than pathetic ruffians driven by some coin and the chance of a quick rut."

The dark hid the red shame I felt rising in my cheeks, but Thorin paid me no heed.

"This is not a holiday. We must be more vigilant. As you well know, there will undoubtedly be more dangers ahead, and not all will be so easily dealt with. I want to implement a nightly watch, starting now. No excuses."

The dwarves nodded and mumbled their agreement. Thorin, at that point, did approach me.

"Did those men speak to you at all?" he asked, keeping his voice low so that only I, and maybe those sitting right nearby, could hear.

"A little." I replied honestly.

"Did they know you were travelling with us? Did they know who we were?" He stared down his nose at me, though I could feel some sense of urgency with his questioning.

"They knew I might be accompanied by dwarves. I think that was the extent of their knowledge... they had no business with you though... they were sent for me." I explained, wondering if I was finally going to be left behind. I was becoming more and more of a liability.

Thorin stared at me a moment. "Why?" he asked.

I tried to choose my words carefully, especially because I felt both Bofur and Bilbo peering at me from the next log, awaiting my answer.

"Because something was stolen from me... so I stole it back." I admitted, referring to not only the gold I had saved and lost, but also my life as a whole. I met Thorin's steely gaze with a defiant look of my own, waiting for him to cast me aside for being too much trouble, waiting to find out if I would once again be on my own, but instead he simply nodded and left me to my tumultuous thoughts.

* * *

The next day we did not make camp until we had found a location that provided a better vantage of the land.

After dinner, which they shared with me once more despite my protests, some fell asleep almost immediately. I settled in for a while, sitting with my back against a rock face and watching the fire as I munched on an apple for dessert. Kili and his brother Fili came and sat near me, where they chatted quietly with each other. I noticed Bilbo get up and wander off. An odd sound then rent the air, and Bilbo rushed back to the firelight.

"What was that?" he asked anxiously, pointing back over his shoulder.

"Orcs." Kili said sternly. I jerked forward, looking at him in alarm.

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated, his voice raising a few octaves.

"Throat-cutters." Fili explained. "There'll be dozens of them out there." Kili then turned to me and winked, and I realized they were just trying to get a rise out of the hobbit; I smiled and relaxed once more.

Thorin however, soon got up and did not find the joke funny.

"We didn't mean anything by it." Kili said apologetically.

Thorin reprimanded him then walked over to the cliff's edge, looking out over the valley.

Balin then approached, telling the lads not to worry and explaining Thorin's hatred for orcs. He told a story of battle and loss. How Thorin arose in the despair and defeated the pale orc, Azog, rallying the dwarves to success. He earned his leadership that day, and Balin's unwavering loyalty. I listened attentively, looking at Thorin with greater appreciation.

I wondered more about his past, and the history of the others, as I tried to fall asleep that night. I was beginning to understand that I might be amongst more than just a random company of humble dwarves. There was a story here, and I was determined to find out what it was.

* * *

The next morning we were all abruptly awoken earlier than usual as Thorin stormed around camp giving his comrades a rough jostle or swift kick despite their groans and mumbles of protest. Thankfully, by the time the brooding dwarf reached the hobbit and I, we were long since awoken by the raucous.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Bilbo stressed in alarm, raising his hands up defensively as Thorin passed us by and closed in on the last few sleeping forms.

Kili cursed particularly loudly after such uncouth treatment, shooting a scathing glare up at the older dwarf as he sat straight upright, nursing the spot where Thorin's boot had made contact.

"If you suspect we might be tailed by orc parties in the night, nephew, then I _trust_ you will not object to a faster pace." Thorin remarked with a slight sneer as the young dwarf glared at him.

I was beginning to clue in that there might be more to these dwarves than met the eye, and I was becoming increasingly curious. The next few days, however, weren't very conductive for conversation as a storm front moved in and once it started pouring rain, it rarely seemed to stop. As we travelled, we stayed single file as the road turned into mud, all of us scowling to ourselves as our layers of clothing progressively soaked through.

After my rough encounter with the men, I felt slightly more cautious and less keen to bring up the rear so instead I opted to ride more in the middle of the group. I felt rather tall on my horse, even though Gandalf was often only a few dwarves ahead.

At one point I turned in my saddle to see a rather despondent looking Bofur, rain dripping from his floppy hat, absentmindedly check his now very unlit pipe, and then proceed to stick it back in his mouth. I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the image. He looked up at me startled, then smiled with the pipe still in his mouth and touched his hat to me. Unbidden, I found myself looking at him more closely then, and for some strange reason I began to wonder as to what he might smell like. My mind, still mulling over our meager breakfast and our current state, could only rationally suspect he must smell like pancakes and storms of all things... or something equally as pleasant, though perhaps less bizarre.

I shook my head and returned forward as I heard Dori (or Ori, maybe Nori?... I couldn't remember) ahead of me asking if Gandalf could do anything to stop the deluge. I urged my horse forward a bit to try and catch his answer.

"It is raining, Master Dwarf." Gandalf called back grumpily. "And it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."

Bilbo then spoke, but I couldn't quite make out what he asked.

"There are five of us." I heard Gandalf respond. "The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards; you know, I've quite forgotten their names."

"And who is the fifth?" Bilbo enquired.

"Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown." Gandalf explained, turning his head to speak so the hobbit could hear him better.

"Is he a great Wizard, or is he more like you?" Bilbo asked innocently, almost causing me to snort.

"I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way." Gandalf said crossly.

The rest of their words were lost to me by a strong wind which caused the trees to drop even more water on us. I shivered, pulling my coat closer. Finally, by late afternoon, the rain ceased and we were able to partially dry off before coming to a stop at a ruined and deserted farmhouse.

Thorin began assigning duties, charging Kili and Fili to look after the ponies and telling Óin and Gloin to start a fire. I dismounted, but tied my horse where I could see him; I was somewhat protective of the beast since he was basically nearly the sum of my life's worth. Gandalf and Thorin walked off towards the ruined frame of the house, deep in discussion. I looked about, wondering if I could be useful. While staying within sight of the others, I picked up a few dry branches and dumped them by the dwarves making the firepit, and then saw Gandalf stomp past us all, seemingly in a rush. I heard him snap that he'd had enough of dwarves for one day, and watched him go, wondering when he would return - hoping that he would at all. He had invited me to join them despite Thorin's wishes. If he abandoned us now, I may find myself abandoned as well.

"Come on Bombur, we're hungry." Thorin ordered gruffly.

I wandered over to where Bofur and Bombur were unpacking some cooking supplies and asked if they needed help. They looked at me confused for a moment, then Bofur handed me a few potatoes and a knife and asked if I could peel and cut them. When I was finished he said that was all that needed to be done for now and went to sit down, beckoning me to join him. The sun had set so we remained close to the fire. I stretched out my legs towards the warmth; they were stiff from the day of cold riding and likely still somewhat bruised from my mistreatment.

"Do you remember all our names yet?" he asked, his eyes dancing in the firelight.

"Oh, don't quiz me yet." I moaned in mock protest, but then I smiled. "It's not fair that I have to memorize fifteen new names when you all just have to learn one."

He shrugged exaggeratedly. "It's not as if we have very difficult names. Some of them have only three letters."

"That doesn't make it easier." I exclaimed, tossing up my hands. I thought about it for a moment, trying to recite them in my head before trying out loud. "I remember the patterns," I said, "but I get confused as to who is who. Do the similarities always indicate kinship?" I asked.

Bofur nodded, reminding me that Kili and Fili were brothers for example. He then pointed to the others and I begrudgingly tried to list them off, only confusing Gloin and Óin and completely forgetting Balin. It was a definite improvement.

"What is it that you do?" I asked after a moment's pause. "Back home I mean... Where do you call home? Are you all from the same area? "

"That's a lot of questions for someone who's been avoiding them herself." he said, looking at me knowingly.

I faltered, suddenly nervous. "I'm sorry - you're right..."

He held up his hand, smiling as usual. "Tell you what; I'll make you a deal. You can ask me anything and I'll tell you the truth - if I can - but then you must repay in kind."

I thought about it for a moment, but my curiosity overrode my secrecy. "Alright, deal." I said, holding out my hand. He took it, his large calloused fingers warming mine for a moment.

"You first then." he said as he released my hand.

"Where are you from?" I asked, starting simple.

"Far west of here in Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains." he replied easily. "I'll ask you the same."

"Well... I was in Bree for the past eight years. But I was born in Laketown."

He looked at me intently for a minute, his eyes thoughtful.

"What do -or what did you do before this?" I asked before he could comment.

"I was a miner, mainly, though most dwarves dabble, bit of construction, bit of blacksmithing, bit of carving..." he trailed off then looked back at me. "And what about you?"

I bit my lip, embarrassed to label myself as a _serving wench_ and wondering why I had to choose that question when I figured he would just turn it back on me. "I was a... server and cleaner at an inn, but it wasn't exactly my choice." I tried to explain without getting into the particulars. I hoped to never be in such employment again.

He nodded slowly but didn't press for a better description. "Did you want to ask me anything else tonight?" he asked. I thought for a moment, unsure if I wished to continue.

"Why are you travelling with this company?" I asked finally, wondering if it was too secretive or personal of a topic, but he smiled at me, his eyes twinkling and gave me the answer I least expected.

"I was told the beer was free."

He then abruptly got up to help hand out the stew, and I was left watching him go with a confused smile on my lips.

I took a bowl without arguing this evening, vowing to myself that I would pay them back when I could. When I was done, however, Bofur took my bowl but brought it back to me full once more.

"No." I said this time, trying to stop him from pushing it into my hands. "I'm very grateful you'd allow me anything at all. I don't need more; I'm already so much in your company's debt."

"Don't worry, Bombur offered up his seconds! Besides, you look half-starved." he set the bowl down on my lap, forcing me to grab it to prevent hot stew from spilling over onto my legs. Truth was I needed it, my personal stores were running very low and I knew I had dropped some weight from lack of sufficient meals the past two weeks. My body was craving the nourishment.

I had just finished when there was a commotion. Kili and Fili had ran into the middle of camp and frantically yelled something about 'three trolls eating the ponies' and 'Bilbo needing help' and then they shouted without further explanation that 'we have to go now!'

Bofur sprang to his feet, grabbing his mattock. He stopped mid-stride then looked back at me. "Stay here lass. We'll be back in a jiffy." Then he ran off with the others into the forest. I sat there nonplussed for a few minutes, gazing around the empty camp. Then I began to hear shouting and deep roaring, and the sound of battle. I stood up and anxiously walked about, restocking the fire, tending to the dishes, wishing I was more than an unarmed ex-tavern girl so that I might be of more help.

After a while the commotion silenced. I perked up, expecting to see the dwarves coming back victorious. But they didn't come. I waited. And waited. Then I finally made up my mind and ran to my horse, managing to scramble on without a saddle and urging him to a gallop in the direction Gandalf had taken off in. I struggled to stay properly seated, gripping his mane for dear life and staying low to his neck as he ran. I eventually had to slow him down, and then only pushed him to run after a span at an easier pace. I rode for what felt like ages without seeing anyone and I knew I had made the wrong decision in leaving. I should have just gone after them myself, I owed them, and maybe I could have done _something._ It was likely too late now.

Just as I was about to turn around, I finally found the wizard. He had been sitting atop a rock, blowing smoke rings into the night when he heard me approach. I didn't notice him in the shadows but he called to me as I passed.

"What on earth is the matter, dear girl?" he asked as I swung down and handed him the reins in a panic.

"You need to go help them!" I explained breathlessly. "There are trolls. Take my horse. Go now!"

He didn't question me further, but jumped on much more gracefully then I had done, then without warning he grabbed my arm and pulled me up behind him. My horse seemed to find new energy as the wizard whispered to it and we raced back to the camp. As soon as we arrived Gandalf told me to wait, then he stole off into the darkness as I tended our tired mount. When he didn't come back in any decent amount of time I felt that at least there still may be some hope. I reasoned he would have returned sooner if they had simply all been eaten...

I fretted about some more, hardly able to sit, until I could see the horizon start to glow. It was almost sun-up. When the first rays lit the sky I heard an ear-splitting crack. Unable to wait any longer I picked my way through the trees, following a path of destruction, and found the dwarves in various stages of disarray under three large stone trolls. I stared at them in wonder as I approached Gandalf and Thorin.

"Nasty business." Gandalf was saying. "Still, they are all in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar." Thorin replied, looking sour.

"He had the nerves to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that." Gandalf countered.

At that point Thorin noticed me hesitantly standing nearby. "And where were you this whole time? Sleeping I suppose?"

I opened my mouth to respond but Gandalf beat me to it. "You underestimate your companions, Thorin. She rode through the night to bring me back." Thorin didn't respond but appeared somewhat repentant. He turned to examine the troll statues. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors..."

Bofur was nearby so I sidled over to him.

"You're all unharmed?" I asked worriedly. They all appeared to have a few new scrapes but no one seemed to be tending a serious injury.

"I think our pride might have taken the biggest hit." he answered cheekily. "Probably best you weren't around to see it."

I furrowed my brow in confusion but he didn't elaborate.

"You fetched Gandalf for us I heard. That should earn you seconds at meals for about a month." he joked, poking me gently in the ribs with his elbow, causing me to smile.

Thorin then shouted to scout the area for a cave. It didn't take long to find, but the odour wafting out of it was so offensive it made my eyes water. Gandalf warned those entering to take heed of what they touched.

"Do you want to go in?" Bofur asked, touching my arm. I nodded, curious to explore it despite its awful stench. After all, it was a far cry less repulsive than some of the men of Bree.

We made our way into the dim cave. I heard some of the dwarves coughing and retching, and I tried not to breathe too deeply. Once inside it was clear the cave held both treasure and decay. Riches hidden amongst the blight of troll scum.

Bofur ran his boot through a litter of gold coins. "Seems a shame just to leave it lyin' around. Anyone could take it." he mused.

"Agreed." Gloin said, "Nori, get a shovel."

I eyed the gold and roamed a bit further in, ogling piles of treasure and old jewellery that had been strewn about so negligently. I carefully picked up a few coins, slowly dusting them off and storing them in my coat pocket, then scavenged a dirty but delicate looking necklace that I carefully stashed away as well. I looked around; feeling almost guilty, but the others weren't paying attention to me. Gloin, Nori and Bofur were busy burying a chest.

"We're makin' a long term deposit." I heard Gloin explain to Dwalin, who looked right unimpressed.

Thorin then shouldered past me. "Let's get out of this foul place," he said, making his way back towards the entrance.

I picked my way a bit further towards the back of the cave first, where Gandalf beckoned me over.

"There are good weapons to be found here." he said, indicating towards a few swords sticking up out of the rubble. "I would encourage you to arm yourself."

I eyed him for a moment as he turned to leave; I had never so much as held a sword before. Tentatively I grabbed a few out. One was much too heavy but the other two were perhaps not as bad.

"Come on, let's go." Thorin repeated. "Bofur! Gloin! Nori!"

I tossed them all back down, turning to leave, but then hesitated and looked back.

I followed them out, my pockets feeling a little heavier and a scabbard in hand.


	3. Of Wargs and Wizards

No sooner had I exited the cave when Thorin shouted that something was coming, preceded by a flurry of birds taking off in alarm and a distant rustling in the forest which was drawing closer at a great speed.

"Stay together!" Gandalf shouted. "Hurry now. Arm yourselves."

The others grabbed their weapons and hurried forward as a group. Bilbo and I hung back. It appeared that he had found himself a small sword as well. We looked at each other, each holding our new weapon rather awkwardly. He then nodded to me, and slowly drew his sword. He appraised it a moment, then looked back up, tilted his head, made a funny high pitched throaty noise, then finally made up his mind, nodded and plodded off after the others. I took his cue and pulled mine out. Despite the scabbard being rather dirty and aged, the sword itself had a clean metallic sheen. I tested it in my hand then followed the others. Some of them did a double-take when they noticed it in my hand.

We all tensed when the disturbance got near, but that tension was short lived as through the trees came bursting not some foul beast, but the strangest sight I had ever seen in my life: a procession of large rabbits pulling a wildman on a makeshift sled.

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" The wildman yelled, looking around frantically as his sled came to a stop in our midst. No one made a move to attack; in fact no one seemed to know what to do at all.

"Ah Radagast!" Gandalf exclaimed as he sheathed his sword and approached the sled. "Radagast the Brown. What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, Gandalf." The other wizard replied as we all looked on with interest. "Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?" Gandalf prompted.

Radagast opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to falter; he tried again and then paused. "Oh just give me a minute... Um... Ohh." He whined. "I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue."

After a moment he continued, his voice oddly muffled. "Oh, it's not a thought at all; it's a silly old-"

We all looked on in disbelief as Gandalf proceeded to pull a living stick insect out of Radagast's open mouth.

"Stick insect." Radagast finished, holding out his hand to take it, his expression quite fond.

I looked around, my face likely mirroring the confusion I noticed on everyone else's. Bilbo looked rather off-put. The wizards walked a few paces away from the group in a private discussion.

"Well, you don't see that every day." Bofur said, leaning on his mattock. I agreed and then went to fetch my horse. When I had returned Thorin looked rather impatient; Gandalf and Radagast were still quietly speaking, so everyone was just aimlessly milling about waiting for them to finish.

Suddenly a nearby howl caused us all to jump up in alertness. I tried to steady my horse as he began to prance about anxiously.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo asked worriedly. "Are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" Bofur repeated. "No, that is not a wolf."

I only had time enough to look back when I heard the snarl. An alarmingly large mutant of a wolf had appeared over the crag. It pounced, taking my horse down and sending me flying forward as well. Thorin killed the beast quickly, but my poor mount was still alive, mortally wounded and making a terrible noise. Vicious claw marks raked his side, bright red blood spilling out over his sleek coat, and though he tried to rise frantically on trembling legs, he faltered and fell once more. I let out a heartbreaking half-sob, half-scream and scrambled over to the poor animal, trying to comfort and shush him, my hands fluttering about uselessly.

I distantly heard the commotion as another warg appeared from the opposite side, but Kili brought it down with his bow and Dwalin finished it off.

"Silence that beast! Quickly!" Thorin shouted at me, pointing at my horse. When I hesitated he stalked over to me, his eyes flashing in anger. I felt someone kneel down behind me and grip my shoulders. "Don't look." Bofur whispered in my ear, but I didn't listen and before I could object Thorin roughly drove the point of his sword through the horse's temple. My hand flew to my mouth and a strangled cry escaped my lips as I heard the sickening wet crunch and saw the animal start to twitch in death throes. Involuntarily I reeled away from the scene. Bofur quickly wrapped a comforting arm around me and guided my head to his shoulder. I pressed my face against his soft coat, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Warg Scouts!" I heard Thorin yell, I also heard him yank up his blade. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind."

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf demanded, to which Thorin replied he hadn't told anyone. "Who did you tell!?" Gandalf shouted, clearly unconvinced.

"No one, I swear." Thorin insisted, causing Gandalf to huff. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted." Gandalf stated grimly.

"We have to get out of here." Dwalin announced, I opened my eyes to see Ori and Bifur appeared over the ridge yelling that the ponies had all bolted.

"Come on. Up." Bofur said, pulling me to my feet. "Someone grab her belongings." he shouted to those nearest. Nori hurriedly began to work at freeing my saddle bags. I took a deep breath and met Bofur's concerned gaze.

"You're hurt." he said, grabbing my hands and turning them over to expose my palms, which were bleeding slightly and dark with dirt. I must have skinned them when the warg's attack knocked me to the ground, I hadn't even noticed.

"I'm alright." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady and sliding my hands out of his. Nori brought over the bags from my horse, I thanked him quickly then rifled through them, shoving the essentials into my backpack and securing my sleeping rolls on it as well. Bofur then passed me my scabbard and helped me properly put it on. The sword hung down at my hip, where it felt wildly out of place on me.

Kili approached and quickly briefed us on what we had missed. "The other wizard is going to lead off the orcs for us." he explained, looking back towards Thorin and Gandalf. "It looks like we're leaving now."

I donned my now very full backpack, regretfully leaving my other bags behind even though they still contained some gear. I reasoned, however, that I would be lucky to even manage just the one pack while on foot. We crept towards the edge of the tree line behind Gandalf and jogged out, stopping behind a large group of rocks.

"Prepare yourself for a bit of running." Bofur said as he hoisted up his gear. I nodded, biting my lip anxiously. I was already feeling the effects from the sleepless night we had thanks to the trolls. Suddenly, Radagast shot out of the forest and the warg pack took up the chase.

"Come and get me! Ha ha!" We heard the wizard taunt before leading the hunters away.

"Come on!" Gandalf ordered. We all rushed out onto the rocky plain and I began to realize when Bofur had said prepare for _a__ bit of running,_ that he was vastly under-exaggerating. After a few minutes, however, Thorin stopped short as we came about another massive rock outcrop. We watched Radagast go by in the distance, the pack not far behind, but they were still too close to us. Gandalf led us back in another direction, urging us to stay together. We had to hide once again, as the wargs seemed to be crossing our path no matter what way we chose, yet the stops were too brief for me to catch my breath. Gandalf encouraged us on once more and I grimaced, forcing myself to move despite the sweat stinging my eyes and a painful stitch in my side.

Yet again we were forced to duck behind a rock. I leaned against it heavily. Bofur was beside me, and I couldn't help but cast a quick sidelong glance at him. He looked tired, but he wasn't near as breathless as I was. I noticed Kili slowly draw an arrow, and only then became aware of the low growling coming from right atop us. No wonder the group had gone so quiet. The young dwarf sprinted forward a few steps then turned and fired two arrows in quick succession. The beast and its rider tumbled over the edge of the rock but neither was dead. Dwalin and Bifur rushed forward as the orc got up and ran towards us. Dwalin smashed it back down with his axe and Thorin went to finish him off as the other two dispatched the warg, but the whole process was much too loud and took much too long. We all stood there a moment, listening as the howling began again in earnest.

"Move!" Gandalf shouted. "Run!"

I wasn't sure I could anymore. My legs felt shaky and I still hadn't gotten my breathing under control, but I pushed myself away from the rock and ran with the others once more. After a minute, however, I slowed, leaning forward as a wave of dizziness took me. I could go no further.

"Oh no you don't!" Bofur said cheerily as he caught up to me, he didn't stop but simply grabbed my hand, lurching me forward and forcing me to put one foot in front of the other or else risk falling flat on my face.

It soon became apparent that we were surrounded. Thorin came to a stop, looking around wildly. We all stopped running as well, seeing the wargs begin to appear in all directions, cutting us off.

"There's more coming!" Kili yelled.

"Kili! Shoot them!" Thorin shouted as we closed ranks. Bofur still had my hand and tugged me into the centre of the group before releasing it and holding up his weapon. I tentatively drew my sword, though I still felt rather unsteady, and frankly sick, from all the running.

Where is Gandalf?" Kili yelled after bringing down some of the riders.

"He has abandoned us!" Dwalin fumed. I looked about, sure I had just seen Gandalf a moment ago, but now it did seem like the wizard was gone. I watched Ori take a shot at one of the beasts with a rock and his sling. It harmlessly glanced off the creature, causing the young dwarf to take a few nervous steps back.

Thorin flourished his new sword and then held it up in front of him with steely determination. "Hold your ground!" he yelled to us.

Then from somewhere behind me I heard a familiar and welcome voice.

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf demanded, appearing for a moment from just behind a rock.

We hastened towards where the wizard had disappeared once again, Thorin urging us to hurry. As we drew close we saw there was a large crack between the massive boulder and the smaller rocks in front of it. Bofur jumped in first, sliding down into a cave. I followed behind without pause, coming to a rough landing at the bottom. I clambered out of the way as Bilbo came down after me. Gandalf counted as the rest of them tumbled down the slope. Thorin and Kili were the last. We all peered up at the entrance, waiting for the warg riders to appear, but then a horn sounded and we could hear a new commotion. Suddenly an orc was launched down the chasm to land at our feet causing us all to jump back in alarm, but it was already dead. Thorin wrenched the arrow out of its neck and examined it. "Elves." he sneered before tossing it down.

Dwalin had scouted ahead a ways and then shouted back to us. "I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur replied, rushing forward.

I leaned against the wall of the tunnel and let the others amble past me. I was completely exhausted; it was getting harder and harder to focus my eyes so I closed them for a moment. I could have fallen asleep just like that but a touch to my shoulder made me jump.

"Come along, it's not much further. You will be able to rest soon." Gandalf said kindly, ushering me to go ahead of him. I smiled tiredly and obliged.

The pathway became quite narrow, and at certain spots some of the dwarves even had to turn sideways in order to get past. Thankfully it wasn't long before we found ourselves in the open, looking upon perhaps the most lovely place I'd ever set eyes upon.

"The Valley of Imladris." Gandalf announced proudly as we took in the scene.

Thorin and Gandalf soon began bickering over something. I wasn't near enough to really hear, nor did I really care at that point.

"You alright there?" Bofur asked as he sidled over to where I was standing. "You look as if you're ready to collapse."

I felt slightly embarrassed. Everyone else seemed perfectly well. "I'm fine." I said, looking down self-consciously and not meeting his gaze. "I'm just not quite used to this sort of thing."

The group started moving again after Gandalf and Thorin sorted out whatever they had been arguing about. I moved to follow but Bofur held up his hand, stopping me.

"Give me your bag. I'll carry it for the last stretch." he said.

"No. Definitely not. I can manage." I said, trying to get past him, but he grabbed my wrist.

"I wasn't asking." he said rather firmly, though his eyes were still dancing with humour. "Best hurry, we're getting left behind." After a moment I sighed loudly and swung it off my back, handing it to him. He smiled and hitched it over his shoulder.

"Thank you." I mumbled in a very ungrateful tone as I fell in step behind him. Though truth was, it felt marvellous to be rid of the heavy thing. I rolled my shoulders and flexed, finally able to stretch my back properly. We eventually came to and crossed a bridge entering Rivendell itself; I forced myself to watch my footing even though I wanted nothing more than to marvel at my new surroundings. When we stopped on the other side of the bridge, I retrieved my pack from Bofur, grinning in thanks as he passed it over, and then took a moment to gape at the wonder that was Rivendell. It was beauty beyond my imagination, and I was mesmerized.

A dark-haired elf soon came down some stairs to greet us and I could not help but ogle him as well. It had been years since I had seen an elf, and even then I had only ever glimpsed them from afar during a few instances when I had been allowed on some trading ventures as a young child. He was tall, and lean, with clear, bright skin, even brighter eyes and long, smooth, shining hair on which an intricate circlet sat. He wore the finest clothing I had ever seen and seemed to simply radiate grace.

Gandalf happily stepped forward upon seeing the elf and they exchanged a few words. The dwarves, however, looked considerably less pleased and whispered amongst themselves with harsh tones. Suddenly the same horns we heard earlier rent the air and we turned to see a group of armed horsemen appear, galloping towards us down the same path on which we came.

Thorin called something in his tongue, then added "close ranks!" I was surprised when Bofur grabbed both Bilbo and I, shoving us in the middle as they formed a tight defensive circle, holding their weapons at the ready as the horsemen crossed the bridge. Bilbo and I exchanged a confused look, clearly both feeling that the dwarves self-protective actions were wholly unnecessary here, but then the riders began circling the group, making the dwarves even more on edge. I sighed and noticed Gandalf standing by the stairs with the other elf, looking completely nonplussed. At last the riders came to a stop and one of them called out to Gandalf. Gandalf greeted him as Lord Elrond. They spoke with each other in elvish but it appeared that Gandalf and he were friends as when the elf dismounted he embraced Gandalf in welcome.

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near." Lord Elrond said, switching to the common tongue and holding up an orc sword.

"Ah, that may have been us." Gandalf said, turning the attention to the group. Thorin stepped forward.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain." Elrond said courteously.

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin responded.

The tall elf appraised him. "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."

"Indeed; he made no mention of you." Thorin said rudely. I looked to the elf lord in shock, but he seemed to be unphased by the impolite comment. I then peered around at the dwarves, they all had looks of distrust and some even revulsion etched upon their faces. Even Bofur had lost his kind demeanour. It was no improvement to their mood when the great elf looked towards us and addressed us all in his native tongue.

"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin."

"What is he saying?" Gloin ranted. "Does he offer us insult?" The group grew rather combative, gripping their weapons uneasily, but Gandalf cut in.

"No, master Gloin, he's offering you food." he explained with a huff.

The dwarves settled immediately and huddled together. I heard them speaking hurriedly in their own language. "Ah well, in that case, lead on." Gloin stated after they broke apart. I rolled my eyes as we began going up the steps following Gandalf and Elrond.

"Excuse me, my lady?... My lady?"

It took me a moment to realize I was being addressed; I had never been called something so polite before. I stopped and looked around in puzzlement then saw the dark-haired elf who had first met us looking at me questioningly.

"Oh. Yes?" I responded. He gave a small bow. Some of the dwarves paused to look back at me

"I was instructed to escort you to a private area where you might, ah, refresh yourself. If you wish it." he said.

"Oh! Well, yes, that would be lovely, thank you." I stammered, feeling hardly able to refuse such a cordial offer. He nodded his head curtly then proffered me his arm. I took it lightly and he began leading me off another stairway. I quickly looked back towards my companions, Bofur met my eye: he did not look happy. I frowned and turned away, wondering what could spawn such a deep dislike between races.

"It is very unusual for a lone human girl to be found amidst such company." The elf said as we wove our way through the beautiful labyrinth of Rivendell.

"Yes, it must seem strange." I mused, letting his labelling of me as a girl instead of the grown woman I was slide by. "I am only travelling with them temporarily." I added rather wistfully, knowing that at some point we'd likely be parting ways.

The elf looked down at me but did not respond.

We came to a stop inside a private pavilion with a large clear bath in the centre. There was a stack of folded towels beside it.

"Here we are. I will send someone to fetch your travel garb." he bowed to me once more then promptly turned and left before I could thank him.

Hesitantly I stripped down and put my very grubby pile of clothing near the door; I also grabbed out my other dirty clothes from my bag and set them atop the pile to be washed as well. I stepped down into the water. It was quite warm, but not too hot, and it felt wonderful. I let myself sink up to my neck, relishing the feeling as it relaxed my sore muscles. I soon noticed a delicate tray nearby adorned with tiny bottles and soaps. I took full advantage and scrubbed myself compulsively, lathering up my hair twice with the sweet smelling shampoo before settling back in and closing my eyes for another few minutes.

"Do not worry yourself," I heard a delicate woman's voice say all of the sudden, causing me to jump. "I will not look; I am taking your clothing to be laundered. I will leave you something to wear this evening."

I looked to see a fair elf-maiden placing my belongings in a basket. She was true to her word and didn't look in my direction, quietly letting herself out.

I felt nearly completely rejuvenated when I was finished. I was still a little weary, and quite hungry, but felt I could at least stay awake until dark. After drying and untangling my hair, I padded over and grabbed the folded garment the elf had laid out for me. It was a fine material, soft and light. I shrugged it on and went to the mirror to see. It was a full length dress with a silvery sheen. It fit close to my body along the waist but flowed out elegantly at the bottom and in the sleeves. It hung off my shoulders slightly, exposing most of my collar. It was a stunning outfit. I wished I matched it better. I wrinkled my nose and pulled my long hair over my shoulder, trying to twist it into a neat braid. Unlike _both _the elves and the dwarves (even the dwarf men at that), I was rubbish at hair styles and so it turned out quite messy, with a few strands already escaping, but I did not want to spend more time on it.

I went to put on my boots and saw next to them a stack of the coins I had gathered in the cave but hadn't yet properly stored in my bag, plus my handkerchief, and the crumbled necklace I had also forgotten about in my coat pockets. After stashing the extra gold in my coin purse and placing it back at the bottom of my bag, I started cleaning off the necklace. Once I had finished I held it up for inspection. It was quite pretty. Delicate white gems adorned in silver. It would match the dress nicely, so I donned it and my boots, then left to rejoin the dwarves.

I couldn't find my way, so had to ask a nearby, handsome elf who, like the other, offered me his arm. I smiled at the politeness of them all. We soon approached an area where I could hear gentle music being performed in the background and he left me at the bottom of some steps. I watched him go with some unbidden longing, yet I was within earshot of the group that was just being served dinner and the thought of food was an even greater temptation.

"..not really dressed for dinner." I then heard Gandalf say from somewhere nearby before I had forced myself into motion.

"Ah, you never are." Elrond responded as they both strolled up behind me. I turned to them, bowing my head politely.

"Well, well, at least one of us is." Gandalf said happily upon seeing me. "You look wonderful, my dear."

"Thank you." I replied, and then turned to Elrond, remembering my manners. "And thank you, my lord, for the hospitality, it is much appreciated." I smiled.

"You are very welcome." he said kindly. "Gandalf tells me you were travelling alone before you joined their company. May I ask why a young woman such as yourself would make such a perilous trip all the way to Rhovanian?"

"It's... a long story." I said rather sheepishly.

"And one she has yet to tell me." Gandalf said. "We may yet still find time for it, but I feel you are more in need of a proper meal and rest, and so it can wait." he smiled at me warmly as I nodded then made to go sit down.

I began to wander over to the furthest table where Bofur, Kili, Dwalin and Nori were sitting. Kili saw me coming, smiled brightly, and then elbowed Bofur in the ribs. Bofur went to swat at him but then Kili nodded towards me. I flushed, now second guessing my drastic new attire as Bofur distractedly glanced in my direction, but then his eyes snapped to me, widening with surprise as they travelled up the length of my dress.

"May I sit?" I asked him when I got to the table. He didn't speak, but shifted so I could step in between him and Kili.

"Don't you clean up nice!" Kili said, nudging me playfully with his shoulder. It appeared as if they all had time to wash up as well.

"They gave me this." I explained, flattening my hands over the dress self-consciously. I peered over at Bofur. He still didn't quite appear as cheery as he usually did, I frowned slightly.

"Is no one eating?" I asked, looking about the table. There were bowls of different salads and fresh fruit and vegetables, but the dwarves just seemed to be picking at it.

"We were hoping for something more... substantial." Dwalin grumbled from across the table.

"Ah, I see. Well, pass me some of it. I'm starving." I said, happily digging into his uneaten salad. I began to notice that Kili was making eyes at the pretty harpist, along with a few subtle few winks, but the others at our table soon noticed as well. Dwalin began glaring at him and finally Kili looked away. He saw us all staring, and busied himself with his plate.

"Can't say I fancy elf maids myself." he remarked nonchalantly. "Too thin. They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin. Not enough facial hair for me." He paused, looking up at the lutist. "Although, that one there's not bad."

"Um, Kili." I said, shaking my head slightly after glancing at the elf he had indicated towards.

"That's not an elf-maid." Dwalin said, very loudly and untactfully.

Kili's face dropped as everyone within earshot began to laugh. I smiled sadly at him. Luckily it wasn't long before someone changed the subject.

A while later Nori looked back towards the harpist in annoyance. "Change the tune, why don't you." he said, rubbing his ear. "I feel like I'm at a funeral." The others agreed with him, and even I was beginning to feel like the music was just putting me to sleep.

"Alright lads, there's only one thing for it." Bofur said suddenly, as he stood up and then proceeded to climb onto the table, knocking things over in the process before stepping over onto a nearby stone pedestal. I gaped at him; he flourished his arm out dramatically, winked at me, and then began to sing a catchy shanty. The others soon joined in, stomping and banging the tables to the rhythm that set even Thorin's toe tapping. Kili began tossing food, which ultimately caused nearly everyone else to start as well. Soon the whole company was laughing and singing and throwing food. I couldn't help but laugh with them. Kili gave me a pastry and dared me to throw it at Lord Elrond's table, I smiled and surprised him by actually doing it, though I missed and nearly hit the nice dark-haired elf we saw earlier. It splattered on the wall right by his head, causing him to make the most disturbed face. Kili almost fell over laughing. Bofur came and sat back down beside me and I looked at him, my eyes bright and my face flushed from laughing as well.

"That was amazing." I beamed. "I haven't had that much fun in ages." He smiled and I hoped that whatever tension that had arisen between us was gone. I didn't notice his thoughtful gaze linger on me when I turned and began talking to Kili, still laughing over the pastry throw.

* * *

After dinner the company dispersed. I tried not to notice the mess we made as I picked my way out of our dining area. The fair, dark-haired elf that had greeted us initially intercepted me before I made it too far and directed me to the room I would be lodging in for the night. It was far too large and exquisite for the likes of me, but my belongings had already been delivered and the elf insisted the room was mine as long as I needed it. As he took his leave, I thanked him with as much enthusiasm as I could muster with the energy I had remaining. Then, with sheer delight, I fell back onto the largest, comfiest bed I had ever known.

Sleep was nearly instant and uninterrupted and by the next morning I had never felt better. A light breakfast had been set upon one of my tables and I indulged in fresh fruit and bread. I had noticed that, along with my belongings, a few more lightweight gowns had been provided for my use which I took advantage of once more - this time donning a faint rose-tinted dress with a delicate gold belt. I also removed my braid, letting my hair fall in waves over my shoulders, enjoying having it clean and loose for the first time in weeks.

I decided to explore for part of the day and was happy to enjoy the lush and ethereal environment without the scoffing and scowling of dwarves. I couldn't rightly understand their prejudice when we had been so warmly welcomed into this exquisite and safe sanctuary. I marvelled at the graceful architecture, running my hands along certain carvings as I passed. The craftsmanship of everything here was far beyond anything I'd ever witnessed.

I ran into Bilbo seemingly doing the exact thing I was. He was in much better spirits than I had ever seen him and we walked together for a time as he told me all about the Shire - his nervousness and usual hesitancy was all but gone, and I found myself happy to listen to him for what must have been a few hours as he told an elaborate tale of his home. We eventually got on the topic of food, to which he described his somewhat excessive eating schedule, and after describing some of the delicious dishes he would often cook for himself, we realized we were both famished. We were surprised and pleased to find it was nearly supper time, so we went and found a meal together.

"No, you should have seen the mess they made of my house!" The hobbit exclaimed when I asked him if the night before was just due to their dislike of elves. At this, though, Bilbo suddenly seemed to remember all that had transpired up to this point, especially the gritty details of the unexpected party. In great detail he described his own first encounter with the dwarves, and even let me in on some of the terms of his employment with the company.

"What in the world could they have employed you for that would put you at risk of evisceration?" I asked curiously, after being regaled with a particularly long list of hazards that the hobbit could be expected to face according to his contract.

"Evisceration isn't even the worst of it! They actually thought I would be at risk of incine- Oh, um...actually...well, I think I shouldn't have told you any of that, according to the contract. I don't suppose you'll keep that all a secret, would you?" he pleaded nervously; glancing about to make sure none of the dwarves were nearby. I assured him I would, and we continued eating.

After dinner I parted ways with Bilbo, who though cordial never seemed to recover after nearly revealing some of the dwarves' secrets. I opted to take one last stroll before retiring for the night and after walking for a few minutes I noticed a nearby balcony a few levels up that would offer an amazing view of the sunset. I made my way to it, only getting turned around once, but when I came to the terrace I saw Bofur leaning against a pillar, idly smoking his pipe and looking out over the valley. I almost debated turning around, not wanting to disturb him, but at that moment he turned his head and spotted me.

"Fancy seeing you here." he said, but not unkindly.

I grinned as I walked past him and laid my hands on the balcony rail, I was right, the view was fantastic. I took in a deep breath. "This is the most wonderful place." I said happily. "Though," I added, turning to look back at Bofur. "I don't suppose you even find any of this beautiful." I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice and gesturing at the general surroundings.

"Oh, I find a great deal many things beautiful." he replied slowly after a moment's pause, looking at me intently before taking another puff from his pipe.

I didn't know what to make of his comment so I didn't respond, but I ventured towards him.

"I would like to show you some dwarven architecture." he said distractedly when I failed to speak."It has a different kind of beauty, but no less impressive."

"I would love to see it." I replied. I stood there awkwardly for a moment as he watched me but felt myself begin to flush under his scrutiny so I cast my eyes to the ground. "I wanted to say thank you." I began. "For everything you did to help me... I know I'm just useless out there."

"No. You're not." Bofur told me gently, taking my hand. "And it was my pleasure." He then completely stunned me by bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it before letting it go.

I remembered to close my mouth, at least, when he looked back up at me. His eyes held their usual twinkle.

"May I ask you something?" he questioned after a moment.

Something in his tone made me wary, yet after a slight pause I nodded.

"What are you running from?" he asked me sincerely, holding my gaze steady. I immediately clenched my jaw and took a step back but he gently grabbed my arm to keep me from leaving.

I looked down, feeling embarrassment and shame flood through me. I was able to whisper two words before I broke free of his grasp and left him standing there, confused and alone.

"My fiancé."


	4. A Short Rest

I made a point of avoiding the dwarves for a few days but found the time alone was a welcome change. I could not remember ever having idle time and took some joy in being able to sleep absurdly late, relax in long baths, experiment with perfume oils, and practice different hairstyles in front of a looking glass. I also took pleasure in exploring the outdoor paths that wound their way around Imladris. After perusing the library, I was even able to borrow a few books that I found in Westron, and spent some time reading both on my veranda and in bed. I found a level of peace I never thought possible and knew I could never go back to the subjugate life I knew before. Yet despite my gratification, I could not quite forget that I rudely fled from Bofur when he had only ever been kind, and I owed him an explanation.

I spent one more day in my own private, luxurious world, but vowed to myself to seek out Bofur that evening to try and validate myself and my behaviour.

I found most the group that night in their quarters; they appeared to be having a late night party, though after a survey of the room I noticed that Thorin, Balin, Bilbo and Gandalf were absent.

I approached Bofur from behind and quietly sat down next to him; he was busy roasting a sausage over a fire they had built right on the floor. Bifur added a few pieces of wood to it, but I noticed they were nice pieces of wood, _really _nice, and looked around to see a few now mostly disassembled pieces of furniture scattered close by.

"Should you be doing that?" I shrieked in alarm, causing both Bifur and Bofur to jump and look at me. Bifur muttered in dwarvish then proceeded to stick a whole head of lettuce over the flames, staring at it with intensity as the leaves crisped black.

"I'm sure it's fine." Bofur said. "They didn't tell us _not_ to do it." He added with a grin, pulling off the cooked sausage. He examined it thoughtfully for a moment.

"Bombur!" he yelled suddenly, tossing it to the large dwarf who was sitting on a bench across from him. Bombur caught it. His seat, which was in actuality an entire table, creaked ominously and then completely gave way, sending the dwarf to the floor in a very undignified manner, his plate of food flying everywhere. The others roared in laughter and I chuckled but swatted Bofur on the arm.

"That wasn't very nice." I chided, trying not to smile.

"Oh it's alright," he said when he had finished laughing. "He's my brother; he'll get me back later."

"Bombur is your brother?" I questioned incredulously, I knew Bofur and Bifur were cousins, and assumed Bombur was just a cousin to them as well. "You two look nothing alike."

Bofur laughed. "He got the good looks, aye, but I've got the charm. Still, he's quite the ladies' man back home."

I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, and it must have shown on my face.

"You don't believe me?" he asked with mock seriousness.

I peered over towards Bombur, who was still on his back rolling around struggling to get up. I watched as, in his attempts, he kicked outwards and knocked Bifur's lettuce off its stick into the flames. Bifur threw his cooking stick at the fire in a rage and stood up shouting what sounded like obscenities in dwarvish. He gestured at Bombur in frustration then began to stomp away, slapping a bowl of food Ori was carrying out of his hands to the floor in the process. Ori stood there looking scared, his hand still out as if it was holding the bowl.

I snorted. "It seems as if good looks and charm run in your family."

Bofur laughed at that.

"He doesn't talk much, does he?" I mused as I watched as Dwalin and Dori finally heave Bombur to his feet.

"He's more the strong, silent type." Bofur said, smiling.

"Dwarven ladies find his... qualities attractive?" I asked, trying to be tactful.

"I wasn't joking. Usually, the bigger and hairier, the better. He had quite the selection to choose from when he decided to take on a bride."

"Huh, that is very interesting." I said, looking at the large dwarf thoughtfully.

"I'd wager the standards of human attraction are a little different then?" Bofur asked, grinning at me.

"Maybe a little." I replied, smiling as I met his eye.

I realized suddenly that I had been staring at him just a bit too long, studying his features; his gleaming eyes in the firelight, his dark hair, his lips... My heart began to race as I knew I'd been caught and I don't think I had ever blushed so hard in my life. He shot me a knowing, teasing smile before looking away.

I cleared my throat and tried to collect my wits.

"At least, I'm sure our men would certainly not be partial to us growing beards." I said light-heartedly, hoping to distract him and rubbing my smooth chin. "Though you never know, maybe they _would _like it... something different, exciting perhaps."

"Ah, I find it hard to picture you with a beard. Wouldn't suit you." he replied.

"Really? Are you sure you wouldn't find me a bit more... alluring if I had a thick, blonde moustache to match my hair?" I teased.

He grimaced. "Definitely not, you're perfectly alluring as you are."

Again I was unsure how to respond. My mouth hung open, a slight smile playing around the corners. It seemed this time he might have heard it how I did, and he busied himself in grabbing his pipe out of his coat, avoiding my eye for a moment.

"About the other night," he began, his voice suddenly more serious. "I, ah, didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head. "No, listen, it's not-" I stammered, feeling embarrassed and suddenly warm. I glanced about the room at the other dwarves. "Do you want to come with me outside?" I asked suddenly. "I could use some air." Bofur raised his eyebrows but nodded and got to his feet.

He lit his pipe using a stick from the fire as we made our way out onto the balcony and once we were out of earshot of the others I turned towards him, wanting to be honest with him but wondering where to begin. I bit my lip and wandered to the railing, needing another moment to collect my thoughts.

Finally I looked back at him and smiled nervously. "I wanted to tell you..." I began hesitantly, I smiled again and continued, "...about me. I think one of you at least deserves to know, and I trust you enough to be honest now."

I paused and Bofur grinned encouragingly. He set down his pipe and then stepped forward and lightly took hold of my fingers, leading me over to a bench so we could sit.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" he asked after we were settled. I took a breath and nodded, staring down at my hands a moment before looking back up at him.

"Well, I told you once that I was born in Laketown..."

* * *

I told Bofur nearly everything, and it happened like an avalanche. At first I stumbled, still hesitant to be so honest with someone I had only known for three short weeks, yet eventually I began simply letting my words flow freely, and soon there was no controlling the rush of emotions as I expressed myself like never before. I could no longer contain myself after years of wearing a face, of lying and hiding and repressing. Finally I was able to tell someone my true story. Finally, based on all the experiences I've had, I could try to make someone understand _me_, and it was liberating.

After I finished my last account before joining the dwarves, I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes. I knew I had laughed and cried and raged and lamented as I went through my tale, and now worried that it had been altogether too much for one sitting.

I glanced at Bofur, biting my lip.

Bofur looked at me, concern etched on his face. "Did he ever hurt you, physically?" he asked softly, leaning in a bit to keep his voice low.

I looked down. I had been wholly honest with my account but had purposefully left out some of the more personal descriptions, yet there was no point in lying anymore. "Yes." I said dully. "A few times."

He made a motion, as if to reach out to me, but then seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand. "Do you think he'll still try to find you?"

I shook my head slightly. "I can't see him putting in more effort. I didn't steal more gold than what he had taken from my earnings, and it's not as if he truly wants me as a wife when he paid those men to just find and kill me."

Bofur frowned and I realized I hadn't actually mentioned that the three ruffians had been hired to take my life. I hastened to move the conversation forward.

"Anyways, so about the other night, I'm sorry I ran off without an explanation, and I should not have worded it so - I'm not engaged." I said somewhat apologetically. "And I never want to think of that man as my fiancé again."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Bofur said and then fell quiet once more.

In our silent companionship, I couldn't help but look sidelong at the dwarf as he stared out over the valley. I knew now that there was so much more to these dwarves than met the eye, and I meant to ask Bofur more about himself, his companions, but despite sleeping half the day away I still found it hard to stifle a yawn that crept up. The moon had long since set, and I suddenly wondered just how long I had been talking.

* * *

The next day I awoke early and, after bathing and putting on yet another freshly provided dress, I skipped off to find the dwarves. Usually I spotted at least a few of them taking breakfast near the kitchens, but today I was let down to find not even one of them. I took an apple to munch on as I went off in search of familiar faces, but was once again dismayed to find their quarters abandoned. A quick peak told me they were still somewhere in Rivendell, as all of their effects remained, though I did notice a few oddities such as the elven harp pulled over next to Thorin's bedroll, and the pile of silverware that seemed to have been so hastily tucked beneath Nori's blankets that some had spilled out. Not wanting to be caught snooping, though, I left without investigating further.

I checked the area of the late-night fire next, to see if there were any clues as to what they may be up to, but all I found was cold ashes and a neatly stacked pile of split table and chair pieces. I even went to the fountains where I had heard, much to the dismay of our hosts, the dwarves had taken to bathing. Not one bare-bottomed dwarf in sight.

Frustrated at my lack of success, and still somewhat peckish, I abandoned my search and made my way back towards the central hall.

After a quick brunch, I let my feet take me where they would as I lost myself to my thoughts. I took a few paths I had not yet explored and eventually picked up a familiar scent on the air. I hastened forward and soon discovered the source of the distinct, but not unpleasant, odour - the stables. I saw no elves working and so tiptoed inside, wondering if I was allowed to be in the area. The horses within were magnificent creatures that seemed not to need fully enclosed stalls to contain them, nor were they bound with ropes in any way. I took a few steps inside, admiring the tall, sleek beasts, yet I was tentative to approach any closer. I was comfortable with horses, as I often had to tend to customer mounts while working at the Inn, and my brief ownership further enhanced my experience, but I knew these horses were different than the beasts I was accustomed to.

I had never been one to do much talking to animals, not that I had ever been given much of a chance to, but as I looked into the eyes of one of the nearest stallions, I felt like it knew where my mind was wandering, and so I put voice to my thoughts.

"If any of you happen to have seen any dwarves-" I was cut off as the nearest one snorted, and my mouth hung open for a moment at the tenacity of this creature.

"Well, that was rude." I stated bluntly and placed a hand on my hip. I turned to walk away, only to see an elf leaning against one side of the stable's entrance, arms crossed and a mirthful smile gracing his lips - one that reminded me ever so slightly of Bofur's. I struggled, and failed, to come up with any words or action to redeem myself, but nothing came to mind so I simply smiled nervously and remained quiet.

"They cannot understand you, hiril vuin." He stated matter-of-factly, which caused me to blush and nod. I knew how silly I must have looked.

"I know." I admitted abashedly.

"Lau, you do not. I meant that they only understand Sindarin." He explained as he walked up beside me.

"Oh." I said breathlessly in surprise as I comprehended his meaning. He glanced down at me, and again I found myself somewhat entranced by the beauty of elvish features. I quickly found my voice, though I struggled to act casual.

"I am sorry, I should not have wandered in without permission." I said, gesturing towards the entrance.

"It is no trouble." The elf replied. "There is nothing to fear. These horses would not needlessly harm someone unless they had ill-intentions, which I suspect you do not given how quiet they remain. However, they do particularly favour attention from their riders, and can be wary of outsiders... I could introduce you to one, if you are interested?"

I smiled, eager for the chance to get closer to one of the animals. The stable-hand guided me down the aisle and into the main thoroughfare between the wings of the stable, and I was surprised to see that not all elf-horses were white - something I had come to believe based on stories and fairy-tales passed about at the inn. Some were golden, others chestnut, and some even black as night.

"That is one of our fastest and strongest. He belongs to Lady Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter, and will listen only to she." The elf mentioned when I stopped to look at a particularly noteworthy steed, and when he reached out to pet the horse it tossed its head, shaking his mane while letting out a mirthful whinny.

"I never knew Lord Elrond had a daughter." I mused after smiling at the horse's vibrant display of character, then realized there was no reason I should have known that, and fell silent once more.

"Yes. A daughter and two sons. Come." The elf beckoned me out of the thoroughfare and into a small paddock which, as I now realized, was just a short pathway away from the bridge where we had initially crossed into Rivendell. The paddock was closed, though, and empty save for a single horse which stood munching on some greens. As soon as we entered the ring, the horse walked over to us. My guide murmured something in elvish, petting the horse down along his nose and neck. When he stopped talking, the horse seemed to look towards me expectantly. Unsure of what to do, I lifted a hand up, but the elf's own hand signalled me to wait.

"It is a bit, ah, impolite, to touch without introducing yourself first. Is it not the same in your culture?"

I blushed again, and in my flustered state I introduced myself and fumbled a curtsey - the best I could given that my training had been from bar wenches who tried to optimize the view down their shirts. The horse bowed in return, and I straightened up and looked to the elf in bewilderment.

The ceremonial nature of the greeting was lost on the elf, however, as he was obviously once again trying to keep himself from laughing. My confusion added to the apparent hilarity of the scene, and finally the elf explained.

"I am sorry, my lady. That was not necessary - our horses make judgement on those they meet long before something as simple as a name is given to them. Nice curtsy though. I truly meant no harm, but Rocheryn has been wanting to show off that trick for days now and none of my stable-mates could be convinced to return him the courtesy."

I smiled a small smile as I suddenly remembered a saying the dwarves would often mutter: _Wherever there are elves, there are lies__. _I was beginning to think there was some truth to the aphorism. At any rate, I was beginning to long for the company of anyone but him. At least the dwarves' teasing never made me feel 'less than' in any way. Seeming to sense my animosity, the elf continued, this time more sincerely.

"Truly, I am sorry... but tell me honestly - if you were several centuries old and often left with only the horses for company, you would be a bit crazy too, would you not? I know not how Lord Elrond does it, as old as he is and rarely cracking so much as a smile - let alone joking. It would be enough to drive me mad as a skylark. Alas, you may not forgive me, but at least do not hold it against poor Rocheryn. Come, meet him." he beckoned me forward, and then backed away to the edge of the paddock, perhaps to show that his trickery was at an end.

I relaxed a little, and stepped forward to allow the stallion to first smell my hand before stroking its muzzle. It truly was a beautiful animal, much taller than the horse I had ridden from Bree. I moved around to its curved neck, admiring the shine of its dapple gray coat. I cooed to it under my breath as I rubbed my hand down to its shoulder. After a few minutes of interaction with the great horse, I turned back to the stable-hand and expressed my appreciation. Thankfully he made no further attempts to tease me as he escorted me back out though the stables, but he did talk the entire way, and I wondered if he simply enjoyed the sound of his own voice. I took my leave of him with a rather new impression of elves; clearly not all of them were quite as stoic as I had imagined.

As I wound a bend in a path leading back to the more common areas of Rivendell, I looked ahead to see I was not far behind Bofur, Nori, Ori and Bifur. Not wishing to appear undignified by sprinting up behind them, I instead called out Bofur's name. He turned and waved upon seeing me, then seemed to tell his comrades to carry on as they then continued up the path while he turned and began walking back towards me. I smiled as I caught up with him and we carried on together at a slower pace as I told him of my time in the stables.

"I was looking for you earlier." I remarked after I was finished describing the somewhat unmannerly oddness of the elven stable-hand (to which Bofur seemed overtly pleased to hear of). "Where were you?" I asked curiously.

"Me? Well I was at a secret dwarf meeting." he replied with his usual gusto.

"I see." I stated simply, casting him a suspicious glance. "Well that would explain why I did not see any of you then."

"Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly, turning to look at me while we walked. I ventured that I could eat, and he assured me that he was starving.

"Thorin woke us all before dawn and had us marching up out of the valley in such a hurry that none of us had a chance to grab anything more than a few leftovers we had lying around from last night. Took us all the way back to the hidden cave and had us planning and scheming." He explained as we sat down to a table, plates filled from the trays outside the kitchens that always seemed to have something to eat on them, regardless of the time of day. It seemed that Bofur, at least, had gotten over the dwarves' initial disdain at fresh greens, or perhaps he was famished enough to not give his helping of salad the stink-eye. As we ate, I asked him, being as subtle as I could so as not to pry, what had Thorin in such a secretive mood.

"Well, here's the thing. Seems things will be moving more quickly from now on - you could say we're on a wee bit of a tight schedule, as it turns out. We've all been given orders to start keeping our eyes out for any opportunity to snatch up supplies the elves won't notice missing."

He didn't elaborate any further than that, and so I made a point of changing the conversation to lighter things while we finished our meal. Once we were finished, however, I decided that now was my opportunity to hopefully gain more insight on my peculiar band of travelling companions. After an elf whisked away our empty dishes, I remained seated and looked at Bofur somewhat expectantly.

"Ah, now what's that look for, lass?" he questioned with a lazy smirk.

I shifted in my seat and placed my elbows up on the table, lacing my fingers together then resting my chin atop them.

"Well I reckon, after last night, when I told you basically all of my secrets, not to mention my whole life story, that you owe me a fair few answers now... free of charge." I remarked with a slight smile, raising my eyebrows in anticipation.

Bofur grinned. "I can't argue with that." he admitted with a nod, his hat sliding down his forehead somewhat as he did so. "Fine then, give it a go, I owe yah that much."

I smiled and then sucked my inner cheek a moment, decided on the best approach.

"Lord Elrond welcomed Thorin as a descendant of King Thror under the mountain." I began slowly. "You're the dwarves of Erebor aren't you?"

I had mulled over that possibility during the quiet peace of the days in Rivendell, and I was now beginning to piece together their riddle. I grew up in the shadow of the ruined city of Dale; I knew the lore of the mountain: the tales of Girion and the dragon, and the prophecy of Durin's folk.

Bofur looked at me seriously. "My kin and I are not," he began quietly, "but aye. The rest of them are heirs of Durin."

"And you're going back to Erebor?" I asked in a whisper, leaning over the table towards him.

"Aye. That's the idea anyway." he replied, too casually for my liking.

"Why? Why is the company going to Erebor?" I pressed.

"To reclaim it." Bofur said simply.

I slammed my hands down on the table, a bit harder than I intended. "That's not possible." I hissed. "The dragon-"

"Relax! We have a plan." he said easily, shifting in his seat and stretching out his legs. "And a burglar."

"I don't know what you mean." I said distractedly. "But entering that mountain is a death sentence."

He didn't respond. I shook my head in frustration, got up and walked out onto the nearest veranda. I heard Bofur walk about behind me. I sighed and sat down on a bench to be able to look up at him.

"Where did you get this?" he enquired, stepping forward and gently touching my necklace.

I frowned, not wanting to change the subject, but petulantly told him it was a treasure from the troll-hoard.

"It suits you... my lady." he said with a smile despite my grumbling tone. Rather than receding he instead lightly traced his finger along my collarbone as he admired the necklace, and I was surprised not to feel the urge to flinch away, as was typical when men had touched me in the past. The fleeting contact inexplicably warmed my skin. I looked at Bofur in confusion.

He quickly withdrew his hand, frowning as he glanced down in what seemed like embarrassment.

"When are you leaving?" I asked, trying to ignore the sudden discomfort in the air between us.

"Soon I'd wager." he replied, his voice still quite upbeat even though he was avoiding eye contact by tending to his pipe.

"Let me come with you."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." he looked at me then, his expression kind. "We've already led you into peril. It's not safe in our company."

"But I'm travelling that route anyway." I insisted. "I won't slow you down this time, I promise."

He shook his head. "That was never the problem. You should think about staying here for a while. It's nice." he said in a much too cheery and controlled a voice. "I'm sure the elves would give you refuge, for a time."

"I don't want to seek refuge with the elves." I said petulantly. "I'm going to Laketown, even if it means I have to continue alone."

Bofur gave up. "Alright, alright. I'll see to it that you join us when we depart. It would be more dangerous at this point for you to follow our route without us."

I smiled. "Thank you." I hesitated a few moments, looking up at the dwarf who had shown me more respect in a few days than I had received in many years. I then realized we were simply gazing at each other in silence, which might be considered improper. I knew I wasn't quite cultured in the formalities a lady was supposed to follow. Though I was raised respectively enough, I had spent far too long in the company of vagabonds and strumpets. I smiled in embarrassment and stood up. "Well, I'm going to retire for the evening. They gave me my own room you know..." I gestured towards the general area where it was located.

"What privileges. You sure you don't want to just settle down here?" he badgered.

I smiled. "I assume the elves just thought it would be wildly inappropriate for a vulnerable young lady such as myself to camp down next to thirteen burly and untrustworthy dwarves."

Bofur laughed. "Aye, we are quite the unsavoury lot, prone to all manner of mischievous deeds." he replied roguishly with a wink.

I opened my mouth, but could not think of a clever enough retort so I simply smiled instead, feeling my face flush with heat. I shook my head and rather regretfully bid him goodnight.

* * *

After another long sleep, I awoke to bright beams of sun lighting up my luxurious, airy room and determined it was very well past noon. Soon I would need to readjust to rising with the dawn again, but was happy I did not have to quite yet. I stretched lazily, and then took my time in washing up and dressing. I re-wore one of the dresses I had a few days back, not wanting to create much more laundry than I already had, then I happily strolled out into the day and made my way back to the company's quarters. There was no one to be found. The area was tidy, and empty. I rushed to the dining area. Empty as well.

I paced around frantically, searching for any sign of them, my jaw clenched in anxiety and growing anger, but then I finally came across Gandalf. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and immediately relaxed.

The wizard turned to me when I approached. He seemed surprised to see me. Then his expression dropped.

"Ah, dear girl," he said gently, as I came to a wary stop in front of him. "I thought you had gone with them."

I stared at him, a knot settling in my stomach. "They've left?"

"I'm afraid so, before sun-up."

I had to turn away, lest the wizard see the tears prick my eyes.

_They left without me._


	5. Over Hill

"I need provisions, and some new supplies." I told Lindir firmly (I had finally learnt his name). He gazed at me sceptically. "I can pay." I added quickly, shoving my coins into his hand.

"My lady, we will gladly outfit you for travel, and there is no need to pay us." he replied softly, handing the gold back to me. "Yet we do not wish to send a woman alone and so unarmed into wild territory."

"Please, don't patronize me." I chided hotly. "You all seemed just as apprehensive to let thirteen dwarves, armed to the teeth, out of the last homely house. I, at least, am not too proud to ask for your help first." I lost what bluster I had, my shoulders dropping. In an attempt to lighten the mood and improve my chances of getting aid, I added: "And in any case, my stride - as yours - would outmatch theirs by far. I'll be caught up by midday tomorrow if I leave shortly." I flashed him what I took for an optimistic smile, but it must have come off more as pitiful, since Lindir's expression softened.

"You intend to pursue the company of Thorin Oakenshield?" Elrond asked, stepping up beside Lindir. I had not even heard him approach. "Some would not deem it wise."

I looked up at the regal elf lord apprehensively.

"I need to reach Esgaroth." I explained, trying to make him understand. "They are my best chance at getting there in one piece. And, despite their stubbornness - not to mention poor manners - I have grown somewhat fond of them. I would like to ensure they come to no harm."

Elrond looked down at me, with what appeared to be a smirk gracing his face. "Very well." he said after a moment. "Gandalf has business to attend to before he departs, but we will make you ready to leave within the hour. If you travel swiftly, you should be able to reach them before the road becomes too perilous."

I thanked him profusely as he informed Lindir to ready some supplies. I rushed off to my room to change and repack my gear, and was soon brought a few bundles of well-packed rations which bolstered my own much diminished supplies. I also noticed a few packets of carefully wrapped tea leaves and thought it a marvellous item to pack for a journey, something I would never have thought of on my own.

My old travelling clothes felt rough compared to the delicate fabrics of the elven dresses, but the weight of them was oddly reassuring. Still, as my fingers brushed across the fabric of the beautiful garments once more, I wished I could take them with me.

"My lady, are you ready to depart?" Lindir's voice from beyond the doorway caused me to jump. I moved to close my pack, then, in a moment of weakness I rolled up one of the dresses, crammed it hastily into the top of the bag and fastened it in haste.

"Coming!" I shouted as I shouldered my gear and bustled out the door.

Elrond and Gandalf were waiting for me at the bridge I had crossed with the dwarves less than twenty four hours past, and here I was about to cross it once more, this time alone.

Elrond stepped forward. "The weather in the high pass has turned foul of late, and I fear that will be the least of your perils before you reach your journey's end. Lindir, the cloak."

He gestured with his hand and Lindir stepped forward, fastening a thick grey cloak about my shoulders.

Elrond then took both my hands. "I wish you a safe journey. Namaarie, Aa' menealle nauva calen ar' malta. Quel fara."

His words were lovely, though I did not know their meaning, so I simply smiled and bowed my head, thanking him once again before stepping towards Gandalf.

"When you reach them, remind them to wait for me in the mountains until I can join them." the wizard said to me quietly.

I assured him I would, then stopped and looked as an armoured elf made his way towards us, behind which the loquacious stable-hand was leading two horses, one of whom was the grey stallion Rocheryn. Elrond was quick with an introduction.

"Glorfindel, my captain in arms, will escort you to our borders."

I bowed my head to the intimidating elf, and then smiled as the stable-hand approached me with Rocheryn.

"My lady," he said with a grin. "It seems it was fate that had brought you to the stables so that you might meet the horse that would bear you today. Rocheryn is a trusty steed. He will not allow you to fall, but do not treat him callously. Notice he does not wear a bit?" The elf handed me the reins, and I saw that they were indeed just hooked onto a decorative halter. "He will instead respond to the gentlest of guidance, and well-spoken words." He then quickly instructed me on the pronunciation of a few Sindarin commands that would be of most use.

I mounted my horse with growing apprehension. Was I making the right choice? I could be comfortable here, for a time. Surely I could eventually find a caravan travelling south to the Gap of Rohan. From there, safer routes could lead me home to Esgaroth. But no, my road lay ahead of me, and there was no turning back. Glorfindel began to make his way across the bridge, but I asked Rocheryn to halt, and looked to Gandalf one last time, my eyes full of uncertainty.

Gandalf offered me a small smile and stepped up to my side. "Do not worry, child. I have high hopes for Thorin and his kin. If your path runs parallel to theirs, I believe it must be for some purpose. In matters concerning kingdoms, wizards and dragons, I find that events are never slave to random chance." He winked at me, and then withdrew. Somewhat comforted by his response, I nudged Rocheryn with my heels and rode once more into the Wild.

* * *

"I'm afraid this is where I must leave you." Glorfindel said after pulling his horse to a stop and dismounting.

I slid to the ground and surveyed the area. We had ridden fast for at least two hours, but now the sun was beginning to set and the terrain was becoming too treacherous.

"Thank you." I replied, handing him the reins. "This has put me many hours ahead of what I had hoped for. I will not forget the hospitality I've been shown."

He nodded at me kindly. "Be wary. I feel that you may not be the last to travel this path before the rains fall. Something foul follows in the dwarves' shadow. We may be able to stall their pursuers, but not for long."

I watched him go, feeling rather anxious to be left alone with nightfall fast approaching, but I had no choice now but to turn and push on up the path. The elevation had been steadily rising and I lamented the loss of a mount as I gradually became more and more out of breath doing the climbing on foot. Yet I did not stop, not even when the last rays of sun fell behind the mountains, cloaking my way in darkness.

I slowly trudged along, mostly lost in thought, but I completely froze when I heard it: the howling. I recognized it this time. Wargs. Not wolves. They sounded a considerable distance away, but my blood ran cold. I knew the speed they could run, so I began sprinting forward, trying not to trip or run over a drop-off. I felt a branch scrape against my cheek. It stung, but I didn't falter. I ran through the dark until my chest was heaving and I knew I had to rest.

My speed reduced to a staggering gait, and on uneven terrain my footing was unsteady. The moon had long since rose and fell to vanish behind the mountains that climbed on before me, leaving me with only the distant light of the stars to guide me. With my last ounces of strength, I made for a thicket only a few paces off the road. My legs gave way the moment I reached the shelter of the bushes. I went down hard on a root, and though pain lanced through my knees, I was already half asleep. Sheltered from prying eyes, my head resting in a mossy rise between the roots, I drew my new cloak tight around my body and let sleep overtake me.

* * *

Morning came too soon, and yet there must have been some elvish magic lingering in the passes around Rivendell - that, or my body was growing used to the rigours of life on the road - because my limbs, though leaden, no longer ached. I rose in uncertainty, my head foggy, and brushed leaves and twigs from my view to check my bearings. I was closer to the High Pass than I thought, which meant if I had any chance of catching up to the dwarves it would have to be while we were still in the foothills. I rose and stretched my arms above my head, relishing in the loosening of stiff muscles, and then rooted in my pack for a breakfast. I pulled out a hard pear and a slice of whey bread along with a skein of fresh spring water, and stuck them into my pockets for the road. Ready to begin another day, I set out with a steady pace, my eyes turned towards the mountains looming in the distance.

It was past midday and I was travelling through an uneven valley when I thought I saw the group in the distance. I smiled, relief flooding through me, as I urged forward at a quicker pace.

When I got quite close, I quieted my footfalls and began sneaking up on them, ducking behind trees when necessary. I was in luck; Bofur and Ori were walking at the back of the group. I covered the last few steps at a sprint and then announced myself before they turned around.

"I think you've forgotten something." I said loudly, slowing my pace to match theirs.

Ori jumped and Bofur whirled around in alarm, gripping his mattock threateningly. His eyes widened when he saw it was me and he quickly lowered his weapon.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, causing my expression to drop.

"Well. I am en route to Laketown." I replied, trying to keep my voice pleasant. "It just so happens I walk faster than you all. It was inevitable I would pass you eventually, given the sluggish pace you're travelling at."

A hesitant grin split his face.

"It is nice to see you again." Ori then told me, smiling shyly. I thanked him, but then those in front began to look behind them, now aware of the commotion and new voice. They stopped in confusion when they saw me standing there. Bilbo gaped at me; I smiled back and shrugged my shoulders.

"Well, well." Kili said with a bright smile, backtracking a few paces towards us. "I knew we wouldn't be able to shake you off so easily. Didn't get enough of us, did you? Couldn't stay away I reckon." he teased, flashing me a wink.

I opened my mouth to object but was cut off.

"What is she doing here?" I heard Thorin snap irately, pushing his way past the others and coming to a stop in front of me. Even though I was taller than him, I felt small under his gaze.

"Did you not understand when we left you behind with the elves?" he asked snidely. "You have no place amongst us. It was bad enough that Gandalf imposed the hobbit on us. I will not stand to bare this human girl as a burden any longer, and neither elves, nor wizards..." his voice dropped to a low, menacing rumble as he lowered his brow in anger and cast a sidelong glance towards his company, "nor even my own kin, will make me choose otherwise. Turn back. You are not welcome, you never were."

I felt my heart beating harder in anger and humiliation.

"I am travelling your route!" I half-shouted, tossing my hands up. "If you shall not let me join you, then you must at least let me go on ahead of you. I cannot follow in your footsteps." I lowered my voice, glaring at him venomously. "You are being tracked too closely, Thorin. I heard the wargs last night, and they are not far behind. I will not be a casualty on your behalf simply because I am forced to travel a few days behind you, out of your sight."

He scowled at me, but I held my ground

"Why would we take you on when we have nothing to gain from it? We know nothing about you." he growled.

"There's not much to know." I replied hotly.

"Oh I find that hard to believe. Go on, speak! You seem to know much about us. It's only fair. We've already been accosted twice on the road, on your behalf. We cannot have you with us if you'll only bring further trouble."

"Thorin-" Bofur tried to cut in.

"No, let's hear it!" Thorin demanded, turning on me and staring me down. "Why is she traversing the countryside with a haste that would only befit a criminal though it's clear she has no skill in battle? If she is to be travelling with us then we deserve to know the truth. All of it. Go on, tell us!" he shouted.

"Fine!" I yelled back angrily. "I'm going _home_, to Laketown. My father died when I was young and my mother couldn't support me so she sent me with a trader to make a living in the west. To a better life, she said. But she was wrong. I was dropped at a tavern, forced into unpaid labour and had to suffer through the unwanted attention of some of the foulest men you could ever come across - but none were worse than the innkeeper himself, and he thought he _owned_ me, so when I had the chance to escape, I took it." I took a deep breath and looked at Thorin. "Are you happy now? See? I am nobody..." I dropped my gaze in shame, my voice losing its edge. "And I have nothing to offer. But I am just trying to go home as well. And I am asking you, begging you; will you allow me to share the road with you, even just for now?"

He appraised me, his dark expression not changing. The rest of the group was silent.

"If you slow us, you will be left behind." he grumbled at last. He then turned to his company. "And I want it made known that no one here is responsible for her safety, do not put hers above yours under any circumstance."

I nodded in understanding as Thorin began to lead on. A few of the lads smiled and patted my back in either greeting or comfort as they filed behind him. I waited until they were all ahead of me, ready to step into my usual spot bringing up the rear, but then Bofur drew up beside me, pausing for a moment to look at me with an unreadable expression. I expected him to speak up, to offer some explanation or apology for breaking his word, but he merely nodded, dropped his gaze and moved to follow the others. I fell into step, biting my lip and nursing my growing frustration.

When we found a suitable location for the night, I tossed my bag down then went and found a pile of firewood and some kindling for Gloin. I then laid out my blanket, sitting down on it to relax for a while. I noticed Bombur bring the pans and pots over to the fire, and then soon found it hard to ignore the tantalizing smell of sizzling bacon. I couldn't believe they had something so good still left, yet I found it unlikely that the elves would have provided it or else they had been anything but fair when they had packed my bag. I pulled out an apple, a parcel of seeds and nuts, and a piece of bread and stared at them miserably.

Bofur cautiously approached offering me a portion of their hot meal. I shook my head.

"No. I don't think I'm allowed any more free handouts." I said rather tartly, briefly meeting his gaze. I brandished my own food which I then busied myself with to avoid looking at him further and leaving no room for discussion, though in doing so I felt a stab of regret. Bofur had only ever been amicable, even if he had broken a promise. In truth, I knew it had been an easy promise to break. I was definitely not an asset to the group and the leader did not approve of my presence. I shouldn't have had such unrealistic expectations. I furrowed my brow, feeling a growing need to prove myself useful, even if in small ways.

Bofur, however, did not seem swayed by my unfriendliness as he then simply asked if he could sit by me. I begrudgingly nodded, trying not to look at his plate in longing as he settled down.

"What happened here?" he asked after a moment, leaning forward and brushing my cheek with the back of his finger.

I ran my hand over where he had touched, unsure what he was referring to, but then felt the uneven skin of a few long but shallow scrapes from the other night.

"I ran into a tree branch." I remarked with a small grin. "Though to be fair it was after dark, so all things considered, I think I did pretty well coming out of it with just that."

He frowned, opposite of what I was hoping he'd do. "You shouldn't have been alone." he said, his voice turning serious. "It was unfair to leave you behind. I knew you'd come after us. I tried to tell him..."

I tentatively placed my hand on his arm, smiling reassuringly. "It is forgiven." I said. "Though, it will be even more forgiven if you give me a piece of your bacon."

* * *

I fell asleep quickly that night, but forced myself up when I first stirred in the early morning rather than turning over and back into slumber. Everyone else was still asleep. I quietly removed my small cooking pot and filled it with water, then tiptoed up to the dwarves' dying fire. I stoked it back to life, added a few new logs, and then set my pot over the flames. After the water reached a boil, I brought it back to my spot then added a few of my stashed tea leaves, letting them steep before carefully pouring it into the one wooden cup I owned. Bofur was sleeping nearby, next to a snoring Bombur. I crouched over to him and strategically placed the tea where he would see it upon waking. I then snuck back over to my blankets, already hearing signs of waking from some of the others, and crawled back under them to warm up until everyone else arose.

I made a point of not looking in Bofur's direction at all when we all got up. I ate a small breakfast and then knelt down to start rolling up my blankets when I heard footsteps come to a stop behind me.

"It's a rare luxury to enjoy a hot brew in the morning on a journey such as this," a familiar light-hearted voice remarked, "but I think this is yours." I turned about to see Bofur, grinning down at me and brandishing my empty cup. I smiled faintly but was unsure what to say now that I had his attention. He then knelt down in front of me.

"Listen, I know you might still be mad at me-" he began. I cut him off, holding up my hand.

"It's fine, Bofur. Really it is." I said gently. "I understand, and I'm not angry. In fact I feel bad for putting you under such pressure to make a promise you had no authority to keep. Anyway, why else would I make you tea?" I smiled as he looked at me intently, then I reached forward and grabbed my cup out from his grasp.

"Thank you for that." he grinned, his face lighting up. "It was very sweet of you."

Eventually we were on our way, continuing through the valley while impressive rocky peaks rimmed the horizon ahead and flanked either side of our path. I didn't seek out Bofur for conversation as I might usually have done, things between us still seemed just slightly tense even though I had assured him I held no ill-will towards him. So I kept pace behind the others, expecting to spend the day mostly in silence. Ori, however, surprised me at one point by hanging back in order to talk to me for a measure. He asked me about Laketown and Bree, telling me he had never been to either. In fact he said he hadn't travelled much of anywhere, but he was inspired to be a scribe and this was an opportunity for him to record the events of their quest.

Later on in the day Kili and Fili then lagged behind. Kili made fun of my new cloak and proceeded to point out how I was both similar and different to an elf, some of his comments almost bordering on insulting. I scoffed and made to swat him when he remarked my complexion was much ruddier and my posture much worse than an elf's. He ducked and laughed, and I smiled, knowing not to take his comments too personally.

The dwarves were much slower on foot without their ponies, which was fine with me; I kept up without much effort even when we began picking a trail up the side of the valley.

When our path crossed that with a large reservoir of fresh water fed by a small waterfall, Thorin decided to allow the company to take advantage of the opportune bathing spot so we stopped for the night within a small stand of trees nearby.

"Go on first." Thorin said gruffly to me, allowing me to take my turn before all the rest of them while they set up camp. "But be quick about it." he added as I smiled gratefully and dashed off back towards the water.

After a thorough rinsing I swam towards the waterfall and ducked behind it, delighting in the effect of the screen of water all but shielding me from the rest of the world. I propped myself up on a rock and sat for a few moments, shivering as the mist continually drenched me, listening to the whooshing sound of the cascade.

Finally I slid back into the depths and braced myself as I swam through the torrent, squeezing my eyes shut as the falling water doused my head. I then lazily stroked back towards where I had entered, and I realized I had quite missed swimming the past few years. It was always very freeing and, though usually uncomfortably cold, it was also extremely rejuvenating.

I eventually reached the shallows and stood up to get out, humming softly as I was now in a rather cheery mood. I looked around thoughtfully, still humming, but then paused, frowning slightly. I then looked around more urgently, my confusion and anxiety growing. My pile of clothing was not where I had left it. In fact, it did not appear to be anywhere at all. I scrambled to shore and began to frantically search the area.

"Lass?" I heard a voice call nearby. I gasped in alarm and splashed back into the water, quickly sinking back down to my neck despite the cold.

"Are you alright lass?" The voice called again. "Beggin' your pardon, I'm not looking. But you've been gone an awful long while... the lads are getting antsy."

I recognized the voice as belonging to Bofur. I knew I would be tossing in my sleep over how embarrassing this encounter was surely to be, but I reasoned I was more comfortable with him then with some of the others, so I called him over to help me.

He tentatively stepped out of the tree line, his hand dramatically covering his eyes - to which I rolled my own.

"Really, it's alright." I assured loudly to be heard over the falls. "I'm up to my neck in the water, you won't see me."

"What's the problem, lass?" He shouted, taking a few small steps forward after removing his hand, though keeping his eyes strictly on my face. "Need help washing your back?" he asked cheekily.

I crinkled my nose, _always with the suggestive jokes_. "Better." I replied brazenly. "I seem to have lost all my clothing."

"You did what now?" Bofur asked as he came closer to the water's edge.

"My clothes." I repeated hotly. "Are gone."

"Ah - right." Bofur stammered, and shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking uncharacteristically awkward all of the sudden. "Right - around abouts which way did they go then?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck and shooting me another quick glance.

I grinned slightly, getting the sense that he simply liked to _talk the talk_, but could still be made to feel uncomfortable around women. Perhaps he was a gentlemen after all.

"Maybe a gust of wind carried them off?" I offered.

Bofur looked up and down the shoreline rather helplessly and my teeth began to chatter.

"Nevermind, just go. I'll look myself." I shouted impatiently, wanting to get out of the chilly water at least.

"Nah, here I'll help yah. Put this on. I won't look." Bofur said, removing his coat and setting it over a rock before turning round and taking a few steps away.

I carefully picked my way up to shore, watching Bofur to ensure he didn't peek as I tiptoed up behind him and donned his jacket. I pulled it around me gratefully. It was just as soft and warm as it looked, and smelled faintly of leather and wood smoke. I looked down, ensuring everything essential was covered before I bid him it was alright to turn back.

His eyes quickly trailed up my bare legs to my face. "That's a good look on yah." He remarked lightly with a small smile before averting his gaze.

I scowled, quite unsure if he was being sarcastic or genuinely appreciative.

"I set them down right here." I said somewhat professionally, pointing towards the dry stump I had laid my clothes upon.

Bofur walked over to it then looked around, rubbing his chin.

"I reckon you've found yourself on the butt end of a prank." He figured after a moment.

"Not by you, I'm sure?" I asked in mock accusation.

Bofur grinned and tapped the side of his nose. "Nah. I don't have to resort to tricks to get a woman to undress."

I scoffed slightly. "That is rather bold talk." I said, suppressing a grin and resisting the urge to look affronted as a proper lady should.

He laughed. "I'm not the one wrapped stark naked in my own coat, now am I?" He tutted, smirking at me before continuing. "I reckon it was Kili, looks like his boot print here."

I began to step forward to look - though I don't know why I felt the urge to see a boot print I would not be able to discern anyway. I was not a tracker, nor would I even recognize the print of my own footwear, let alone that of a company member, and thus I would not be able to agree or disagree with his theory no matter if I studied the impression for an hour. Yet still I blundered forward wanting to see for myself what he was pointing at, and that's when the entire situation went from embarrassing to utterly mortifying.

As I took a few steps towards Bofur to see said 'boot print,' my left foot was momentarily wedged under an errant old root radiating out from the dried stump on which I had set my missing clothing. Because I was so concerned with holding the coat closed, I did not use my arms to stabilize myself, and therefore a small stumble turned into an outright fall. As my sense of gravity was thwarted and I began to plummet forward (right at Bofur I might add, and I only caught his shocked expression for barely a moment), I was finally, subconsciously, forced to throw my arms out in an attempt to stop myself.

Hence I ended up falling right into the sturdy dwarf in front of me, my arms awkwardly scrabbling about his shoulders until my momentum halted, his hands coming up round my waist to steady me. When I no longer felt I was falling, I felt an entirely new but an equally dizzying feeling of utter humiliation. Fortunately he couldn't _see_ me, the coat (which I should have done up properly in hindsight) had fallen open slightly, but I was pressed so close against him that nothing was visible at his angle.

"I am so sorry." I said seriously, my face feeling as if it were on fire. I was forced to stay up against him, however, as I brought my hands down, needing to first secure my covering before being able to step away. I became aware of his arms holding me firm around my back, felt his warmth against my bare skin along the front, and I found I could not meet his eye. Before I could step back we heard a new voice in the glade.

"Well that was fast!" Kili said gleefully as he stepped into the clearing carrying a familiar bundle of garments.

I quickly spun away from Bofur, pulling his coat tight around me.

"Thought I'd be a gentleman and return these now, but it looks like you were doing alright for yourself... Maybe I should just keep them and leave you two alone?" Kili continued, his smile so irritating I wanted to smack it right off.

I cursed under my breath. "Of all the most immature... That was not what it looked like!" I shouted vehemently, shooting the young dwarf my most sternest of glares. "And you had better leave me my clothes, or else Kili, I swear, you will not want to fall asleep anytime soon."

Kili dumped my belongings and held up his hands defensively, though his eyes were still mirthful.

"Fine, fine, but you'd better hurry. The others are about ready to barge in on you, finished or not." Kili said with another gleeful smile before turning and disappearing back through the trees.

"I'll leave you to it, lass." Bofur said with a bemused expression when I dared to shoot him a small glance.

I smiled a defeated smile and sighed. "Any chance you could just forget this ever happened?" I asked him before he started off.

He turned and looked at me. "Aye." He said, touching his forehead and grinning. "But I'd much rather not."


	6. Over the Edge of the Wild

The next day I pointedly ignored looking at Kili, finding that if he ever caught my eye he wouldn't be able to stop himself from smirking. I had spoken to him the evening before, calling him a scoundrel and trying to explain what happened so he didn't get the wrong idea. He had, after much sniggering, assured me he had seen my unceremonious fall and to stop worrying. I scowled at him in response, secretly blaming him for the reason my cheeks felt warm now every time I glanced at Bofur.

We continued travelling higher in elevation and the landscape was becoming less vegetated and more rugged. We crossed by another cold waterfall before lunch, the rocks underneath it shiny and dark as it trailed down over the edge of the cliff face, and then took a long break soon after, all of us tired from the ascent.

I leaned against a large rock outcropping next to Bofur and Dori. Bofur carefully set up his mattock against it as well.

"Is that very heavy?" I asked curiously.

"Very." he replied, smiling cheekily.

"Can I hold it?"

Bofur glanced around, raising an eyebrow.

"You're welcome to hold my hammer if y'like... are you sure that'd be appropriate though, what with the others around?" His smile remained just as sweet, but his eyes glinted mischievously from beneath the brow of his hat.

My mouth opened slightly, and I couldn't help but suspect the 'hammer' he had in mind might not be the one I was asking about, given that roguish look. No doubt he only wanted to spare me the embarrassment if I couldn't lift it at all and dropped it on my foot and maimed myself for the journey. Still, I took the bait, pushing myself upright. I stepped over to it, grasped it with both hands and hefted it up. I made a noise of surprise - it was much heavier than it actually looked, and my arms were straining to keep it up off the ground after a mere few moments.

"I don't know how you can haul this around all day." I exclaimed as I gently lowered it and balanced it back against the rock. I idly wondered how muscular Bofur was under all his thick clothing, but quickly chased the thought away before it made my cheeks redden.

"Ah, it's nothing compared to some of the others. Dwalin's axes probably weigh about as much as you do."

I snorted in disbelief.

"It's true." Dori piped in. "I bet Dwalin could even lift you with just one arm!"

Dwalin must have overheard his name, as he began heading towards us.

"I don't think he's keen to prove it." I mumbled, looking away quickly as he stopped in front of us. He was the tallest of the group, appeared to be the strongest by far, and often looked rather surly. I had yet to even speak to him.

"What's that you're sayin' about me?" he growled. I looked at Dori and Bofur with a small amount of panic, trying to implore them with my gaze to tell him it was nothing... but it was too much to hope for with those two.

"Oh, Dori was just betting me you couldn't lift up the lass here with only one arm." Bofur commented, his eyes twinkling.

"Both, I'd wager." Dori quipped, playing along. "But not using just one."

I rubbed my forehead, embarrassed.

"You've got to be joking." Dwalin rumbled, looking from Dori to Bofur as if they were touched in the head. "You know even Ori could."

"But can _you_?" Dori questioned theatrically. Dwalin glowered at us and I expected him to storm away but instead he sighed.

"Well, come here then." he commanded in his gravelly voice. It took me a moment to realize he was actually addressing me.

I stared at him and began to object. "I'm heavier then I look, I don't think-"

But he suddenly grabbed my forearm and tugged me away from the rock face. Then in one smooth motion he bent down slightly, reached behind my legs and then just scooped me right up. I laughed in surprise as I felt my feet leave the ground and leaned slightly into his shoulder to balance. He seemed to be having no trouble holding me up and even hoisted me higher. From my vantage point I noticed Thorin looking our way with discontent.

"You're as light as a feather." Dwalin said, his accent pleasantly lacing his rugged voice. He then used his other arm and tossed me slightly into the air, I laughed once more as he caught me and placed me gently back on my feet. He looked at Bofur and Dori scathingly before leaving us. I smacked both of them on their shoulders as they chuckled to themselves.

* * *

The next day, just as the sun was getting low in the sky, Kili managed to shoot down a mountain goat, which put the dwarves in a rather merry mood. They made seats from logs and rocks around a large campfire and passed about a few flasks as the meat was cooking. Kili kept passing me one, and after he insisted it was for sharing with _everyone_, I took a drink. They all laughed at the look my face as I tried to swallow the harsh liquid. It was a very strong mead that burned going down. Ori laughed by far the hardest, but I doubted he could tolerate it much better. Bofur patted my back and handed me a wineskin, telling me to stick to it instead.

I allowed myself to have a fair helping of goat meat as there was more than enough - they would be packing leftovers for the next day regardless. The noise level of the group continued to rise dramatically as the night proceeded, especially when everyone was done eating but the drinking continued.

And eventually there was music. Fili pulled out a small fiddle and started to pluck out a tune. A few more joined in with small instruments of their own. Bofur also stood up, pulling out a tin whistle from inside his jacket, and began an intricate melody that complimented the others and showcased his obvious skill. I couldn't help but feel a little envious of their talents, and outright admired Bofur as he made playing a complex musical refrain look positively simple. As the music began to speed up to an exciting pace, I clapped and tapped my foot with the rest of the group. Finally they ended with a great flourish, and everyone shouted and applauded.

I found that I was beginning to have a very hard time indeed keeping my eyes off the dwarf with the floppy hat and easy smile. He was a little rough around the edges and his teasing innuendoes sometimes left me nursing a blush, but I knew they were simply harmless, light jokes to try to make me laugh. In fact he seemed to delight in keeping the spirits of the entire group up. He was, I think, the most readily likeable person I've ever met.

He eventually noticed me watching him and came over to join me. I scooted over as best I could on my small log to allow him to sit down.

"Well this is nice." he remarked as he settled close beside me. "Good food. Good company. One could almost forget we happen to be on a dangerous mission towards a dragon infested mountain."

"Almost... Would one dragon really be considered an infestation?" I countered with a grin. He did not answer but chuckled and shot me a bright smile. When we were both seated the height difference between us was negligible, allowing me meet his eyes more straight on. The firelight cast a warm glow over his features. I studied his face for a few moments. Though his appearance did not possess the more obvious fine qualities like that of Thorin, Kili or Fili, I had grown to find his features quite pleasant, comforting in a way, and actually rather enticing when the side of his mouth quirked up, showing a hint of his teeth in a playful smirk, his bright eyes taking on a smouldering effect in the flickering light.

"You're staring." he pointed out coyishly.

"So are you." I replied, though my eyes darted away and I could feel my cheeks heat up. I looked to the dancing flames for a few minutes. I couldn't believe how far I'd come in a few short weeks. I had stopped looking over my shoulder, stopped fearing my past, and was finally going home. I eagerly anticipated reuniting with my family, my mother.

"What are you thinking so intently about?" Bofur asked.

I smiled and looked back at him. "Home. And how lucky I am to be here right now with you." I looked away. "All of you, I mean." I added quickly, cursing myself for blushing so easily. I then told him a few stories I remembered growing up, happy ones about the small adventures I had with my father, and lazy afternoons spent with my mother as she told me tales and taught me something new.

"I haven't seen her in many long years. I don't even know if she'll recognize me." I said wistfully.

"She will." Bofur responded, finding my hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

I looked at him once again, and I noticed that though his kind eyes were framed with laugh lines, they had a sadness in them as well, almost hidden... maybe I was just imagining it. I realized he hadn't quite let go of my hand. I took a slow breath than slowly entwined my fingers in his, ever so slightly. He did not pull away and I hid my smile. The rational part of my mind, however, began nagging me, cautioning me. I had vowed to never put myself in a vulnerable position again, to harden myself against the charms of men that would selfishly use me only to toss me aside when they were sated. I slid my hand out of Bofur's and stared down at my feet, feeling suddenly tense. _There are still good men out there, _I reminded myself. I shot a quick glance at the dwarf next to me who was regarding me kindly but with a crease of worry across his brow.

I smiled softly and let myself relax once more. "I'll make you some tea in the morning." I promised sleepily as I stood up to go unpack my bedroll.

"I look forward to it." he responded quietly.

* * *

I awoke the next day feeling slightly embarrassed. The bit of wine I consumed had made me perhaps a little bolder than usual. I quickly readied Bofur's tea, as promised, but made it in a larger pot of Bombur's so that there was extra. I reckoned a few of them would be waking up with a dull headache and could do with a cup as well.

Bofur smiled at me brightly when he got up and didn't seem to be acting differently, so I returned the favour and didn't act sheepish around him. I heard a few grumbled compliments about the hot beverage at the ready, and noticed Dwalin, Fili and Nori, all looking a bit worse for wear, pour themselves a mug full.

The day passed without incident, though it was becoming harder to find areas to camp overnight. The paths were becoming narrower and more uneven the higher we travelled. Luckily we came to a small pocket of trees sheltering a glade that offered a relatively flat surface to overnight on. We sat about the fire that night, everyone relatively happy after another decent meal and fair weather. Bofur was helping Bombur clean up. I looked around at the group and slowly began contemplating something.

"Kili?" I said, as he was walking by; he stopped and looked to me inquisitively. "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

He grinned. "How old do you think I am?" Fili and a few of the others looked towards us, awaiting my answer.

I pondered it, studying him for a moment. "Around thirty?" I offered as a best guess.

He guffawed and slapped his leg. "Aw, come now, surely I don't look that young? It's the beard thing isn't it?" he asked in mock seriousness, frowning and rubbing his hand against his stubbled cheek.

I smiled but tilted my head, rather confused. Balin leaned forward in his seat towards us.

"You forget, aging is quite different between humans and dwarf-kind." he told us. Bofur came and sat back down, looking at us all thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning to appraise Kili once more. "How old _are _you?"

"I'm 77." he announced with a smile.

It was my turn to laugh, but Balin looked serious.

"No. That can't be right." I remarked, my smile fading as I looked over the young dwarf more earnestly.

"Fili is 82." Kili added. "Why, how old are you?"

I grimaced slightly, seeing many eyes now upon me. "Well, um, now it may sound..." I mumbled and trailed off, looking down at my hands. "I'm 24." I finally admitted.

I felt Bofur suddenly shift in his seat beside me and some of the others made noises of astonishment. Kili's eyebrows shot up.

"She's just a child." Fili commented. I opened my mouth to object but Balin explained for me.

"No, no, lads, by human reckoning she is considered a fully grown adult." he stated calmly. I nodded in agreement, sitting up a little straighter in attempt to look more _grown-up._ They seemed to accept this and, after gawking at me a few moments longer, my cheeks burning all the while, they eventually all settled down and went back to their seats without further questioning. I picked at my nails rather anxiously.

"So how old are you then?" I quietly asked Bofur, not looking up but turning my head slightly so he could hear me.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he replied. I nodded and cast him a side-long glance.

"142." he said after a moment.

I turned to look at him in shock. "One hundred and fourty two?" I repeated with disbelief. "I will live, grow old and die in far less years then that" My head was reeling as I met his eyes, they looked quite sad. "How long _do_ you all live?" I then asked.

"Over thrice that of men." Bofur explained after tilting his head from side to side in thought. "Some even make it past 300, but that is a rare occasion."

I shook my head slightly, completely overwhelmed. I felt like a fool for being so ignorant of the differences between us. Now I didn't know what to think, or what to _feel._ I got up suddenly, excusing myself, not hearing Bofur call after me as I stalked out of the ring of firelight and into the darkness. I needed to clear my head.

The moon was up, so once my eyes adjusted I was able to see quite well. I picked my way through the few sparse trees and found a tiny spring trickling down over the rocks. I filled my water canteen and sat down. I knew I shouldn't be upset. It didn't matter anyway, right? They were dwarves, _he was a dwarf_. And I was human. We weren't meant to coexist. It had always, and will always, be that way. Bofur's silly charm and genuinely caring nature had been making me forget. I was losing common sense, getting in way over my league. Whatever I had been feeling, _or even thinking about feeling_, had to end.

I heard a rustling nearby, snapping me out of my reverie. I stood up and pulled out my sword.

"Oh, it's just you." I said, lazily flopping back to the ground as Kili stepped out of the shadows.

"_Just me? _Ouch." he remarked playfully, walking over and flopping down beside me. "Bofur sent me to check on you... he figured you might not want to see him right now?"

I sighed. "No. It's not him. I just needed- Well, time to think, I guess. It is strange for me. I feel like I am too old already, I should have long since been married and with children. Yet you look near my age and have already lived longer then I likely ever will. If I do make it to 77, I'll be so frail and weak. But look at you." I gestured generally towards his chest. "That's just not fair." I grinned slightly.

"Don't be like that! You are _not_ old and I'm sure you will live a great life." Kili said, smiling assuredly. "You just need to cram your years a little fuller is all." I nodded, offering a weak smile then glanced to the sky; the stars were shining without obstruction. Kili looked up as well and then eased himself onto his back, one arm behind his head. He tugged at my sleeve with his other hand. I smiled and fell back as well, relaxing into the ground, admiring the night's sky.

"He cares for you." Kili continued in a more serious tone.

"Who?"

He made an exasperated gesture. "Bofur of course. He was right pissed when Thorin made us leave without you. He even stood up to him in your defence, and trust me, _no one_ stands up to Thorin."

I frowned; I hadn't exactly been amiable towards him when I rejoined the group.

I was silent for a moment and let my mind wander to a different topic. "Do you know anything about his hat? He never takes it off, even when it's hot out." I enquired lightly.

Kili didn't answer straight away. "That's... a sensitive subject." he finally said. I knotted my brow in confusion and propped myself on an elbow to look at the dwarf.

"What do you mean? I thought that would be a very safe subject to talk about." I said inquisitively.

Kili propped himself up as well, looking conflicted on whether or not he wanted to continue talking. "I heard his wife made it for him." he said after a moment.

I swallowed. "Wife?" I repeated, my voice barely audible.

"Before she died." Kili continued, looking at me gravely. "I don't know any details really," he said, "But I have heard that's who gave it to him. He never lets anyone else wear it, and I reckon there would be trouble if someone snagged it as a joke and tried it on."

"I don't understand though." I said sadly. "He always seems so..."

"Happy?" Kili offered. I nodded. "Yeah I know. Maybe it's a farce. Or maybe he just has a remarkable outlook on life." he shrugged. "He's a good guy though."

"Yes." I agreed, lying back down to look at the stars. I remembered the sadness I had seen hidden behind the laughter in his eyes. I felt an uncomfortable weight settle on my chest. "He is."

* * *

I was torn between wanting to ask Bofur about his past and never wanting to bring it up to him. I wondered if he wanted to talk about it, to open up to someone, or if he'd rather not revisit painful memories. In the end I decided it was not my place to ask him. He would tell me if he felt he needed to.

As it was, I didn't notice I was sort of tip-toeing around him, trying to act _too_ natural, whereas in reality I was coming across as just behaving oddly around him. I didn't notice. But eventually he did.

After a few days of it, as we were walking at the back of the group together while I tried to talk about the most impersonal subjects I could think of, he suddenly grabbed my arm and stopped me as the others rounded a bend, leaving us out of their sight.

"Alright, so what's going on?" he asked, looking up at me.

"What? Nothing." I replied casually, my voice perhaps a little too high. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem tense around me lately." He pointed out.

"_Phht._ No, I haven't been tense. I'm actually perfectly relaxed." I bit my lip, knowing he was seeing right through me.

"Did finding out my age the other day frighten you that much?" he asked quietly, frowning and looking away.

"No!" I exclaimed loudly. "No." I said again more quietly and in perfect earnestness, forcing him to make eye contact once more. "Honestly. It's not that."

In truth I hadn't even really thought about the shocking age revelations since learning about Bofur's mysterious and tragic past, yet I knew it was still something I would have to come to terms with. It was rather odd, as truly the only indication of their many years lived was when they displayed their well-practised skills. They had prowess and stamina beyond what regular men could ever attain, but otherwise most of them did not seem _old._

Bofur seemed to ponder in silence for a moment then indicated for me to keep walking with him so we didn't get left too far behind.

"So... who told you then?" he asked in a tone more serious than I've ever heard him use before. I looked towards him, knowing perfectly well what he was referring to.

"Kili." I replied with a sigh after a few paces. "...He didn't really mean to."

We walked in forced quiet for a while longer until the group became visible up ahead.

"When did it happen?" I asked meekly, staring pointedly at the ground.

Bofur didn't respond right away and I could feel the air grow thick with tension. "Before your lifetime." he finally said, his voice laced with ice. It startled me. I stopped in my tracks but he kept walking.

"Bofur, I'm sorry." I pleaded. "I shouldn't have asked, and you don't have to tell me anything else. I just want you to know that I really am, very sorry. And if you want to talk about it-"

He turned and walked back to me, forcing me to meet his eye.

"No. I don't want to talk about it." he said sternly, then turned and left me standing there alone until I worked up courage enough to follow.


	7. Under Hill

The next day the weather matched my mood, stormy and miserable. We made our way onto the mountain pass and began the treacherous ascent in elevation until we were walking tight against a cliff face, a sheer drop off awaiting if we strayed off the path. I took a spot this time at the front of the group behind Thorin, partially because I was tired of travelling the slowest pace at the back when I could easily travel faster, but also because I wanted to be left quite alone, and I knew Thorin would ignore me altogether. We trudged along single file, and luckily the sheer effort of trying to see through the gale and keep proper footing on the wet stone was enough to distract me from my thoughts.

Soon I couldn't stop shivering and began looking forward to the day's end. The hours slipped by slowly, and our progress slowed with them.

At one point I heard a few sliding rocks, and a bit of commotion from behind. I looked back in horror to see that Bilbo had lost his footing and was tipping precariously forward over the drop off. Dwalin and Bofur luckily had a hand on each shoulder and managed to pull him back.

"We must find shelter." Thorin yelled after seeing the near miss, though he was barely audible above the wind.

"Look out!" Dwalin then shouted with more volume and urgency, causing us to all take heed and look about in alarm.

I could not quite believe it when I saw a colossal boulder hurdling through the air towards us. It crashed against the mountain wall somewhere above, breaking apart and showering us with a barrage of stones, many still enormous in size. We flattened ourselves against the cliff, trying not to get knocked off.

"This is no thunderstorm! It's a thunder battle!" Balin yelled. "Look!"

I didn't know what he meant, but I squinted through the storm in the direction he was pointing and saw movement. Though through the gale it was hard to make out more than shifting shades of grey. A metaphor, I thought, until my narrowed eyes adjusted - then opened wide in bewilderment. The movement was not the chaotic whiplash of clouds in a squall. It was the uniform movement of a creature beyond my wildest comprehension.

"Well bless me, the legends are true. Giants! Stone Giants!" I heard a familiar voice from somewhere nearby, but it sounded far away and small. The entire valley was filling with noise, reverberations of the avalanche of stones that gave way when the creature separated itself from its rocky throne, far greater than any sound of thunder I had ever heard.

I clasped my hands over my ears to try and block out the noise, my body stiffening with fear. I could not take my eyes off the giant, and so did not notice our immediate peril until Thorin shouted over the din.

"Take cover! You'll fall!"

He turned and pushed me roughly back from the direction we were headed, and away from the now crumbling edge of the pathway. Hitting the hard stone forced me to draw in a breath - the first since spotting the giants. The air was so thick with rain that the spray stung my lungs, causing me to start coughing. My legs wobbled, threatening to give up carrying the weight they bore, and for a moment I worried I was too weak to go on. A questioning shout from Kili halfway through the group, however, forced me to realize otherwise: the entire mountain was moving!

I scrabbled for a handhold behind me, my fingers scraping themselves raw against the sharp, rough stone as our ledge pitched forward. Somewhere in the centre of the group I heard Fili shouting, but at that moment I was worried only for myself.

One of my hands wedged into a fissure along the mountain, hardly wide enough for my damaged fingers to shove into, but enough. I twisted hard to keep purchase, sending pain shooting from my fingertips. The pain lanced through my fear of the giants and my eyes looked wildly around to take stock of the situation. Thorin stood beside me, steady as my father the day autumn storms raced southwards down the Long Lake, catching us on open water unaware. My father's eyes had been full with a mixture of fear and determination that I had never before seen. Thorin's eyes were the same now as he looked towards another giant. My head spun around to confirm what I already feared. Half the group was missing; Fili and Bofur were with them.

And then our giant shuddered once more. Rocks came from above us this time, and with a sickening, slow motion we spun to face what had once been the High Pass. The motion brought the others into view, and for a fluttering moment my heart leapt. They were alive! As we completed our course, our ledge swung close enough to jump to safety. My hands released their hard won purchase on the cliff, forcing me to balance awkwardly as we shuddered to a stop on contact. Thorin shouted "GO GO GO!" and I moved as quickly as my legs would carry me.

The others were lost to view by the time I recovered, but I had little time to look. A boulder as large as a small house hit the mountainside directly above us, and this time I knew enough to press myself as far into the wall as I could. The rain blurred my vision slightly, but I hastily wiped my eyes as before I knew it I was suddenly watching the faces of the missing company members rush past me: Bombur taking up a large portion of the cliff by himself, Ori and Dwalin hanging on for dear life, Bilbo (looking as desperate as I felt), Fili, and Bofur.

They passed us, and our hopes rose for a moment, until their giant bent backwards at waist, its knees giving way and driving it with all the force and speed of a thunderbolt into the mountain before us.

I felt a sick hollow feeling spread throughout my body as I watched the giant fall forward and collide into the rock face. The entire valley trembled, and even Thorin was shaken. He shouted out in desperation for his nephew, but the outcropping that supported them a heartbeat earlier was now crumbling away. The stone giant fell away into the mists of the valley floor.

Our hopes fell with it, but we ran nonetheless. We ran along the narrow precipice, surefooted and swift in our purpose, and against all hope.

And they were there. And they were alive.

Thorin rushed into the group towards Fili. Relief washed over me, a warmth spreading from my stinging fingertips and frozen feet up through my body to manifest in a grin. I was lightheaded, subject to the highs of adrenalin with nothing to direct it. That's when I became aware of the dwarf nearest to me.

"Bofur..." I whispered, and then threw my arms around him from behind. He tensed, letting out a surprised "oh", then relaxed. He turned in my arms, but then his mirthful eyes sharpened and he pushed me quickly away. I felt anger replacing relief in that moment of an instant, but then he voiced his worry and I understood his brusque actions.

"Where's Bilbo? Where's the hobbit?" he asked the group in a panic, looking around frantically.

Ori spotted him first, and, in what I felt was an uncharacteristic move for the young unsure dwarf, dove towards the cliff edge to grab Bilbo's slipping arms. I worried I would go over myself as dwarves jostled to help, until Bofur, who's hand had not left my upper arm since my embrace, drew me out of harm's way. "You'll only be in the way, lass." He urged matter-of-factly. He looked for a moment as if he wished to say more, but then things seemed to a turn for the worse, and Bofur, true to form, lunged for the cliffs edge shouting "Bilbo!"

Thorin and Dwalin eventually got the hobbit to safety, while I was left to catch my breath. My aches were beginning to return in full force, and I trembled from head to toe - early onsets of hypothermia. On top of it all, my psyche was on an emotional pit-fall of its own. As I watched Bofur help Bilbo to his feet and brush his travel coat off, I couldn't understand how this dwarf, who had such a large heart, could make me feel so frustrated and intrigued at the same time.

* * *

The chaos of the storm and the encounter with stone giants left us shaken, sore and cold, but luckily it also left us quite near a cave which Dwalin quickly scouted and confirmed to be empty. We piled in quickly, desperate to be out of the rain.

Gloin immediately dropped down a pile of kindling. I moved towards him, hoping to get a good spot near the fire once lit as I could barely keep my teeth from chattering.

"No. No fire, not in this place." Thorin grumbled, causing more than one of us to look at him in aggravation. An involuntary shiver shook me to the core, but I managed to suppress it with a moment of deep, steady breathing. "Get some sleep." he continued. "We start at first light."

His words sparked a memory. "Wait." I said meekly, meeting Thorin's intimidating gaze for a moment. "Gandalf wanted you to wait in the mountains until he could join you."

Thorin looked at me with derision and I regretted speaking up. "Plans change." he stated firmly. "Bofur, take the first watch."

I managed to catch a quick look of displeasure on Bofur's face before he nodded and wandered closer towards the cave entrance. Everyone settled in at record pace, anxious to pull out their blankets from the lack of fire. I set my pack down and grabbed one of my blankets, wrapping it around my shoulders before drifting over to where Bofur had sat down.

"Can I sit with you for a bit?" I asked quietly.

"'Course." he said quickly. "But aren't you tired?"

I smiled wearily as I slid down beside him. "Exhausted." I admitted. "But after all of that, I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep for a while. My heart is still racing."

He nodded sympathetically. I wasn't quite sure what to say next and a few trembles raked my body despite my attempts to stay still. I pulled my blanket closer around myself.

"You're cold?" Bofur whispered, peering at me.

"Honestly. Yes." I said with a grimace, there was no use in trying to act otherwise.

Bofur grabbed his pack and unrolled one of his own blankets.

"Thank you." I mumbled as he helped pull it over my shoulders as well. The extra cover, damp as it was, provided an added layer of comfort and insulation between the cold of the cave wall and my body. Despite my earlier words, fatigue began to dull my senses, so that I didn't notice the piece of dried meat Bofur offered until he waved it right beneath my nose. The strong spices roused me in time to hear as Bofur leaned over and spoke softly.

"Here, this will help too. I 'nicked it off Bomber. He won't miss it." He nodded over to his brother who was actually sleeping rather than eating despite the lack of supper. In fact, many of the dwarves were already spread out across the floor of the cave, limbs and packs scattered helter skelter in their haste to bed down. I parted the blankets and reached out a hand to take the jerky, only once I grasped it Bofur took hold of my wrist and pulled my hand closer to inspect it in the faint and mottled beams of moonlight glowing into the cave's entrance. He frowned once he got a good look at them.

"This needs to be treated, my dear." he said softly.

My fingers were raw and bloody, the nails short and frayed close to my fingertips. I hadn't noticed them until now, and after seeing them I felt a slow ache start to creep down them. I tried to pull away but he moved his hand down and closed it around the palm of mine, applying gentle pressure. My fingers released, and he set the food aside. I sighed; no one else had injuries like this. I felt slightly and unreasonably embarrassed about it.

Bofur retrieved a rather ornate looking wine flask from his side and unstoppered it with his teeth. As he upended a splash of its contents onto my hands, causing me to wince, he spoke to keep my mind occupied.

"Nori was kind enough to offer me one of his souvenirs from Rivendell. Can't say I'm a fan of it though."

Cleaned of debris, he looked around for something to bandage the fingertips with. His free hand strayed to the hem of his undershirt, which already looked to be missing a large square around the size of a handkerchief. Noticing the dishevelled state it was in; he raised his eyebrows in a comically frustrated look and then patted my hand with his.

"I'm afraid I've got nothing to bandage such delicate fingers...here." he handed me the jerky once more. "Óin can do something more for you in the morning."

I nodded, but figured they'd be scabbed over by then and probably wouldn't require Óin's assistance. I finished the piece of meat quickly and then settled in a bit more, stifling a yawn. I asked Bofur a few silly questions which he answered in stride, and found myself staring down at his sleeve, then his hand. I desired to grab it, to hold onto him, despite my less than attractive fingers. I felt almost possessive after having thought I'd lost him earlier. As the conversation lulled I felt my eyelids become heavy.

"Are you still mad at me?" I finally asked, my voice thick with sleep. But I don't remember his answer, I must have nodded off.

I awoke when I felt my pillow - which apparently was Bofur's shoulder - suddenly shift forward. I lifted my head, my neck stiff from the awkward position it had been in. Bofur whispered an apology as he stood up and took a few steps further into the cave. Bilbo was standing in front of him, looking travel ready. I rubbed my eyes and looked around in confusion, wondering if it was time to go, but all the others were still fast asleep.

"You can't turn back now." I caught Bofur saying in an urgent whisper. "You're part of the Company. You're one of us."

"I'm not though, am I?" Bilbo responded quietly. "Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door."

"You're homesick," Bofur said sympathetically, "I understand."

"No, you don't, you don't understand! None of you do! You're dwarves. You used to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place... Not belonging anywhere."

I pushed myself to my feet, and hesitantly took a step towards them.

"I am sorry, I didn't..." Bilbo stammered, looking quite contrite.

"No, you're right." Bofur replied, a sadness touching his voice. "We don't belong anywhere." He placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder in a comforting manner. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

"Wait, you're not leaving?" I cut in gently, looking at the hobbit with uncertainty; he gave me a sad smile in response. "You can't." I urged, repeating Bofur and looking at him for more support, but he remained silent.

Bilbo grinned in a sympathetic way which I knew to be the unwavering expression of one who had made up his mind.

I shook my head. "But, I think it's still storming out." I added quickly as a last resort.

They both watched me as I skirted back towards the entrance and then tiptoed to the mouth of the cave. Based on the moonlight filtering inside, I knew the storm had broken, but I was hoping it was still unpleasant enough out to dissuade the only other non-dwarf companion in our midst to stay. I shot them both a knowing look and then took a few small steps outside; the wind pummelled me instantly, forcing me to back against the rock face to keep steady. I squinted around, trying to guess the time. I must have only dozed for a short while, as there were no traces of dawn on the horizon. The peaks of the surrounding mountain range were a mere inky shadow against a dark sky, and the moon was not yet very high.

"It is still pretty bad!" I shouted, unsure if they would even be able to hear me above the gusting. I took another quick glimpse around, realizing more and more that I didn't really prefer being at this height, and quite missed the easy and much warmer lowlands.

"I wouldn't risk it." I began matter-of-factly as I crept back around the entrance and stepped inside. "You'll get blown right off-"

I stopped mid-sentence and gaped in fear and surprise. I heard a ringing in my ears and felt my heart pounding all over my body.

I blinked slowly. Nothing changed. I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment and tried to remember to breathe. But when I opened them again I couldn't deny the simple truth I saw in front of me...

All the dwarves, all the packs and blankets, everything...

They were gone.


	8. Into the Frying Pan

It was one of those rare moments of absolute, desolate helplessness: the kind where you can only stand there, numbly trying to comprehend your complete and utter lack of any conceivable option whatsoever. It was a feeling I had never experienced to such a degree. Typically, even in the most hopeless of situations, there remains some long-standing regularity for you to follow, or a few factors left in your command to help with that sinking feeling of the loss of control. At the Inn I worked at, for example, some days were certainly beyond bleak, but I still knew I had a safe bed at night, I knew what tasks would fill my day and where my next meal would come from (pathetic as they were). I had routine to adhere to, and I even had a certain power over my plans to leave. But this, this was a new kind of vulnerable.

It took me more than a few moments to regain some control over my thoughts and even longer to regulate my breathing. I took a few faltering paces into the now empty cave, looking around slowly, carefully. I strained my ears for any sound, but could hear nothing besides the faint howling of the wind as it raced past the entrance and the regular soft _plunk_ of droplets of water falling from the ceiling. Another step forward and I noticed the cracks sprawling across the ground. I didn't remember seeing them when we first entered the cave, but then, it had been darker due to the storm and my eyes hadn't adjusted before the dwarves had covered the floor with their belongings. Nevertheless, I knelt down to examine the one nearest to me; it was quite a substantial fracture. I leaned closely over it and was startled when I could see light shining up in certain sections; I scooted down the length of the fault for a ways, seeing down into a lighted space along the span of it. It was clear that there was something other than just solid rock below the cave.

It didn't take me long in my already tense state to hastily clamber back to the entrance when I began to hear a slight grinding noise. I was lucky in doing so, as then the floor completely gave way, the large slabs of the rock seeming to be on hinges as they swung sharply downward yet did not fall away completely. A dim golden light flooded the entirety of the cave. When nothing happened I put myself on my belly, slid forward and peaked over the edge. I caught a glimpse of an expansive... world.

I appeared to be quite high up however, nothing below but a very long drop with many potential things to hit along the way. I heard cackling and screeching, howling from some deranged creatures that grated my eardrums and made me fight the urge to hide right then. Again, I felt as if I had no options ahead of me, nothing realistic at any rate. As much as I wanted to be the heroine of the story - to bravely toss myself over the ledge and then smoothly fight my way to my friends, ushering them to safety in a glorious and unexpected manner - I knew I simply could not. I'd be lucky to even survive the fall in one piece. Unlike myself, the dwarves, no matter what situation they might find themselves in, at least had a small chance of fighting their way out. They had strength and combative experience to draw from. It was not the same for me.

I retreated to the entrance and the floor slabs righted themselves, coming to a crushing stop with nothing to show of the secret below save for the cracks along the rock. I hugged my knees to my chest, and sat there thinking, worrying, crying, resolving...

Finally I got up. I had nothing, save for the sword at my hip, the clothes on my back and one canteen half-full of water. I stepped out into the starlight and looked in the direction we had come from. With the movements and destruction of the stone giants, I wasn't sure there would be anything left of the pass we had been following thus far. But looking the other direction I wasn't sure how many miles, or days of travel, lay ahead until I would be out of the mountains. One thing was certain, I couldn't stay in that cave, the night was slipping by and despite my fatigue I knew the smarter option was to put distance between myself and it. Luckily the wind had lessened and the moon was shining bright. The rocky ledges were illuminated enough that I felt comfortable with my ability to keep my footing regardless of the direction I chose.

Looking east, even though an unfamiliar path lay ahead across innumerable peaks, valleys, forests and fields, I knew somewhere in that direction was familiar ground. My life was not completely directionless. Behind me there was only Bree, an Innkeeper and an Inn. Ahead, Laketown and my family; my future. I hesitantly took a step in that direction, then looked back over my shoulder, not at the remains of the High Pass but into the mouth of the cave. Would the dwarves come for me if our situations were reversed?

"Drat it all! Bugger pissing tit mongrel!" I shouted in frustration, a string of curses which bore me back to my days in the inn but which strung together into absolute nonsensical lunacy in this instance. Our situations were not reversed. I knew that if they had a choice, they would continue towards Erebor, towards their home, and that was exactly what I should do. If our meeting was truly meant to be, as Gandalf suspected, maybe we would meet again in time. Until then, there was nothing for it but to continue on. I had set out on this journey alone, intending to walk the leagues alone, and so alone I would carry on.

I started walking briskly, while my courage remained, and kept up my pace even as doubts began to fill my head.

"Still..." I mused out loud to myself as I rounded a corner and my view was opened to the sprawling magnitude of what lay ahead "...the company of a wizard or a dwarf would not go amiss."

* * *

After several leagues and a few more ill-used curse words, I completely regretted my gallant decision to carry on, especially at night. I was completely lost, completely exhausted and, to top it all off, very very hungry. I managed to wander off the path and then could not find either the way leading forward or even the one leading back.

I was also in no mood for the orc pack that suddenly was upon me.

I drew my sword, but only to fling it with such fury and frustration that I lost sight of it completely in the grass off to the left of one of the more outlandish looking orcs, who, along with the others, was laughing in what I was sure was truly genuine amusement at the situation and not just to seem scary. I was having none of it.

"Just kill me and be done with it then." I shouted, throwing my hands up dramatically.

A few of the riders circled their wargs close to me; I could smell their rancid odour as they passed by. I fought the urge to gag but instead chose to spit at the feet of one of them.

"Vras gruiuk." one of them commanded.

I tried not to outwardly cower as a few of them closed in on me, their mounts growling and snapping as they approached. I thought of my mom, and my house growing up and all that I had been through the past weeks. And I thought of the dwarves, of Bofur, and hoped they would not meet this fate. Suddenly the beasts backed away and parted as an immense white warg, carrying an immense white orc, cantered up, lurching to a stop just a few inches away from me.

"Nuzdi-arg nash." The white orc said in a deep harsh voice.

I found I couldn't look away from him despite the fact that he was frightening beyond all compare. He had giant scars running across every inch of bare flesh in patterns that told me they were likely self-inflicted rather than from old wounds. In place of a hand was a spiked iron rod jammed into the severed stump of his arm. He had great fanged teeth and alarmingly blue eyes, sharp and aware. He radiated authority and strength. He was undoubtedly the leader of the group. I then recalled a story. Balin had told it on one of my first nights with the dwarves: a story that described how Thorin had defeated a pale orc by slicing off his arm on the battlefield.

Azog.

This was Azog.

He leapt down from his warg, stroking it absentmindedly as he took a few slow steps towards me. He carried himself proud and upright. I stared up at him defiantly, jutting out my chin and trying not to betray the terror I felt from head to toe.

"Ang gijak-ishi." Azog said, nodding in my direction but looking towards his followers and causing them to laugh unpleasantly once more. He then stepped forward and roughly grabbed my chin, tilting my face up to his. He inhaled deeply through his nose a few times then released his grip, shoving me away from him as he did so.

He said something else in his tongue, pointing to one of his riders who then dismounted and ambled towards us. This one was much slighter in frame and walked with a permanent slouch, yet he carried a cruel looking sword.

"You reek of dwarf-scum." the orc said, startling me by using the Common Speech. "Where are your companions?"

I didn't answer, scowling between the two orcs that stood before me.

Azog growled something and struck me hard across the face with the back of his good hand. I staggered, clutching my cheek, but some cynical sense of humour reminded me that at least it wasn't with his other hand.

The other orc gurgled a laugh. "My master urges you to answer swiftly, or else we will slit open your belly." he appraised me for a moment, grinning wickedly. "Where are the dwarves?"

I hesitated again, but quickly stammered an answer when I saw Azog's arm twitch towards me. "We were parted. I do not know where they are now..." Azog's face contorted inwards in constrained anger and his weapon moved closer. "...but I am to meet them beyond the high pass." I added quickly.

I don't know why I said it, but my self-preservation instincts told me I might live a few minutes longer if they knew I was associated with Thorin, and if I pretended I had information they might require.

Azog and his translator exchanged a few words in their harsh language while I tried to compile my thoughts.

"Why do the dwarves entertain a human girl?" the slouched orc asked perniciously.

I ignored his offensive facial gestures and spoke up confidently. "I am a respected friend of Thorin Oakenshield and a valued member of his company. You would do well not to harm me... or else he will kill you all."

This caused a deep rumble of a chuckle to emit from Azog when he was informed of my words.

"Khozd shrakhun gud sha kilyash zag." he announced as he mounted his great warg once more. He gave a few orders to the riders and a few more dismounted.

"We will soon see how valuable you are." the crooked orc said with a grin as his comrades rushed up, grabbed me and quickly shoved a gag in my mouth. I struggled as they began to try and bind my arms. This turned out to be a wildly bad idea as it only gained me a swift blow to the head. My vision blurred, then darkened. The fight then left me altogether as I fell limp into the arms of the enemy.


	9. And Into The Fire

I regained consciousness a few hours later, coughing against the repulsive roll of cloth they had shoved in my mouth. I was dismayed and rather put off to find my arms had been bound around the neck of an orc in order to keep me secure while riding. I was sitting close behind him and was jostled uncomfortably with every stride his warg took over the rocky landscape. His rough armour was chafing my arms something fierce and my head was absolutely pounding. To top it all off, this was one of the few orcs with a bit of a head of hair, which was almost worse than the gag as it rustled about and whipped against my face.

The sun had not yet risen, I realized in a moment of respite from the orc's far from luscious locks.

Fortunately we were soon called to a halt. My rider forcibly freed himself from my involuntary clutch and tugged me to the ground where I almost had my head bit off when I accidentally fell back against his warg's hind leg. I scrambled away from the beast as best I could, trying to ignore the laughter of the rider, and then pushed myself into a more dignified sitting position. I was able to pull the gag out of my mouth, since my hands were bound in front of me, granting me a few much needed deep breaths.

He started yelling at me, pointing at the piece of torn cloth I had just discarded. I held up my hands, trying to calm him. The translator pushed his way over to us and picked up the gag.

"No, please no." I pleaded, quickly leaning back as he made a move to shove it into my mouth once more. "I can't breathe with it. I will be quiet. I promise."

He paused as if debating. "One word," he growled, holding up a greasy finger, "and I'll cut out your tongue." He brandished the edge of his blackened blade close to my face for effect.

I nodded in perfect agreement as he tossed the gag back to the ground and then ambled away.

After a few moments of sitting quietly and on my best behaviour I found I could no longer ignore the dryness in my mouth and throat. I was able to subtly pull out my water canteen from my inner coat pocket, but had just unstoppered it when one of the orcs noticed I had something. I quickly drained its contents as he rushed up to me, knowing it would be taken regardless. He snagged it away from my lips and tipped it upside-down, only a few remaining droplets spilled out. I sneered at him in triumph.

"Undur kurv." he spat at me as he sniffed the top of it. He tossed the canteen over his shoulder, eyeing me suspiciously, then, to my horror he knelt down in front of me and began searching me in the most uncouth manner. His clawed hands forced their way into my jacket, scrabbling into pockets and even shoving up underneath my shirt at one point. He quickly found my stash of gold coins and tucked them into one of his own leather pouches, smiling a greedy, dirty smile. He even took the most mundane things I had still in my coat; a handkerchief, some string, a forgotten piece of dried meat... I scowled at him as he left me sitting there rather rumpled and feeling a little violated.

Azog then shouted something and the riders scrambled back to their mounts. My rider looked down at me disdainfully then called the translator over once more. They spoke for a moment, indicating towards me a few times, then the translator pulled me to my feet whilst the other jumped onto the back of his warg.

"You will hang on." the translator snarled, sending a waft of foul breath into my face. "Hang on or you will die, one way or another." He then gnashed his teeth at me, cut my bindings and lifted me onto the warg behind the other orc. I tried to angle my body as far back from him as possible and was unsure what to do with my hands. _Hang on to where? _I pondered. Suddenly the warg sprung into motion at his rider's command and I barely had time to fling myself forward and put my arms around his waist lest I fall off the back. He cursed, or what I assume was a curse, though the whole language sounded like cursing to me, and so I loosened my arms. Instead, I gripped onto his armour in the least invasive way I could.

I only pondered letting myself fall off to try and escape very briefly. I knew better than to take their threats idly. There were many wargs spread out both ahead and behind me, howling and snapping at the air and at each other as they ran. Plus we were still on the jagged terrain of the mountains, with abundant drop offs and ravines. The wargs showcased their agile prowess as they effortlessly leapt along the rocky peaks, causing me to cling to the disgusting orc with a vice grip.

I was glad when we left the high precipices of the mountain range to descend down into the comparatively less treacherous foothills.

The first whisper of dawn was just beginning to illuminate the horizon, and at our next break I was feeling considerably better than I had at the first. Still, the immediate stop of both warg and rider, coupled with my not so immediate stop shortly thereafter, led to my face once again being subjected to the wonder that was orcish scalp and hair care.

After withdrawing from the tangled black mess, I realized that the greater strength of the warg pack had broken off, along with the entire compliment of unmounted wargs. Azog and the interpreter rode directly towards my escort. The interpreter spoke, but it was Azog's words. I could tell by the way he looked at me, his face twisting with the savagely gleeful emotion the words must have been meant to convey.

"Seems we've had a bit of luck. We've found your friends, and are on our way to greet them."

I was crestfallen - feeling more like I stood on the edge of a great void now than I had even on the High Pass.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be joining us. We wouldn't want an important member of Thorin Oakenshield's company to miss them."

Azog pointed with his metallic appendage to the rider I was with, barking a command which needed no translation to get its meaning across. _Keep her here, out of sight, until the time is right._

The howls of wargs on the scent caused Azog to tilt his head to the side, like a dog listening to a distant sound. I knew what it meant, and he knew that I knew. His sky blue eyes, which had been turned in the direction of the distant sounds, slowly returned toward me and a maniacal smirk twisted its way across his features. His gaze was so intent that it held my attention wholly and uninterrupted.

Afterwards, I couldn't tell how long the look had lasted, for it was such a small part of such a large journey, but the next thing I could remember was watching the back of the pale white orc on the pale white warg, riding away into the morning mists.

After that I lost consciousness a second time, and the pain of a heavy impact to the base of the skull was just as bad as the first time.

* * *

A horridly bitter scent brought me back to the world of the living; some foul liquid wafted somewhere close. My vision was blurred, and for a moment I wondered if I was still on the mountaintop at the heart of the storm. There was light though - bright, orange light that danced and swayed. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the centre of the apparent starburst, only to recoil at the pain of exposing my injured fingers to the heat of the nearby flames. I drew in a sharp breath instinctively, only to fill my lungs with the same heat and the smoke of the fires. My lungs voided what sparse air they had, and the racking cough coupled with the blunt trauma to my head threatened to void my stomach as well.

My knees gave way.

The stony bite of the ground never came. Somewhere behind me a hand grasped roughly at my overcoat and held me effortlessly. The support was welcome. Sounds began to trickle in like the steady increase of raindrops in an intensifying storm, as my brain struggled to compensate and correct itself. Ahead, through the blur, a ghostly white giant faced the flames. From behind, a black shape loomed in my peripherals.

"Do you see your friends, deary?" the grating voice of the translator jeered. An arm reached outwards to gesture to the heart of the blaze. "Stuck with nowhere to run. We even landed ourselves a wizard." His tongue flicked out to trace across his filed teeth, and then he dropped his voice. "You know where that leaves you, don't you?"

Though my vision was clearing, I couldn't see far enough through the blaze to know if what the orc said was true. Still, I would end up dead sooner or later. In a moment of clarity, however, I decided that when to die would be a matter of my own choosing.

"Let me draw them out!"

My words were slurred, my voice thick but bearing all the remaining strength I could muster. My throat burned with even that effort, but it needed to be loud enough, for my words were not meant for the translator.

I could see Azog, still sitting atop his warg, turn his head lazily to look back at me, he smiled, and I understood the horrible reality of my situation. He had the dwarves right where he wanted them. They would die of exposure if not from flames or the fall. I was no better. He would have to be a fool to even bother with me now but I had no idea of how truly evil he could be.

"Thrak gruiuk!"

The command ramped up my senses into overdrive. The translator roughly shoved me forward towards the white beast of a creature, keeping his hand firmly on my back, which I was somewhat thankful for as I stumbled through the debris of the fires.

My heart started racing.

My eyes darted around for any possible chance or hope.

My breath quickened.

I was drawing near to Azog's left side, and I knew my list of options was quickly diminishing. Panic overruled reason and I opened my mouth to speak, but as I stepped up beside the warg I finally saw the fate of the dwarves. Whatever words I had planned were lost as I saw them, their situation as helpless as mine. I had no time to process it. No time at all.

I looked up at Azog, he had been watching me. He smirked and shook his head before looking back up towards the dwarves, and in doing so with one smooth, nonchalant motion; he dipped down and savagely drove the spikes of his metal arm deep into the back of my shoulder. The translator held my other shoulder firm while the points drove in. My lungs instinctively drew in a sharp, startled breath as the blades sank home. I looked down in a daze and saw one spike protruding right through the front of my tunic. Surprisingly I only felt an odd pressure, the adrenalin in my blood numbing the majority of the pain. Azog sneered down at me and once again held me in a gaze of timeless, unbridled hatred.

He then twisted his arm, I screamed as the curved blades wrenched at my flesh and bound the fabrics of my clothing. He then pulled my weight up towards him. As to when the translator released me, I did not know, but shortly thereafter my feet left the ground.

Azog held me up effortlessly. My legs dangled uselessly by the side of his warg. I could not struggle, nor hardly move. I fought to remain still and to remain conscious. He rumbled a laugh and straightened his arm, lifting me higher over the precipice his warg perched upon, and from my vantage point I gained a clear view over the flames. After a few seconds - which felt like a lifetime - I noticed a lone dark figure charging forth through the smoke.

Thorin Oakenshield was coming for me, I thought with a sad sweetness. He's coming to save me.

As he drew closer, though, I realized it was no normal determination driving him onwards, it was pure loathing. No, he was not coming for me - he was coming for Azog the Defiler. With another twist, his lethal appendage was free from the tangle of my clothing, forcing my wounded shoulder to take all my weight. Not for long though, as when Thorin neared, Azog swung his arm to the side with all his strength. I was thrown down without a second thought. As I collided with the hard ground several feet below, Azog and his warg lunged forward over me towards the oncoming dwarf lord.

My injury, coupled by my aching head and the trauma of the fall, tunneled my vision. When I regained my breath I turned my head and could make out the figure of Thorin through the smoke. I watched in detached terror as he struggled to his feet only to receive a heavy blow to the chest from Azog's mace, knocking him roughly to the ground once more. Tears filled my eyes as the giant warg savagely took Thorin in its mouth. I could hear his yells of pain through the dull roar of the fire. This roused me out of my semi-conscious state and into action. I rolled onto my chest and managed to get my good arm beneath me, biting back angry sobs as my ruined shoulder hindered and slowed my every move. I pushed myself up onto my knees and saw that the beast had tossed Thorin aside. A nearby orc dismounted, I tried to duck into the shadows, not wanting to draw attention to myself, but it paid me no heed and began to walk towards Thorin, its weapon at the ready. I stared dumbly at the orc's sword as he drew nearer to the fallen dwarf and vaguely recalled I had no weapons of my own, nor did I have even a semblance of a plan.

I tried to stand, but my legs were unsteady beneath me. My world was spinning and I stumbled forward, crying out as my hands involuntarily shot out to break my fall, my arm giving way in an excruciating manner when it met contact with the ground. My chin collided with the dirt. A part of me wanted to stay like that. I was nearly at the end of my limits, and it seemed an easy thing to just stay lying in the dirt, letting the flames close in around me. But I didn't. I pushed myself up once more, the smoke was stinging my already watering eyes, but I could see that the orc was upon Thorin, his weapon poised to strike. It was hopeless, I couldn't get to him in time. We were all going to die.

Suddenly a small form collided with the orc just as his strike was about to fall. It was Bilbo. I could hardly believe my eyes. I smiled despite everything and found the strength to get up. It took a moment to steady myself, then finally my feet were firmly beneath me. I heard a savage growl nearby and turned to see one of the riderless wargs advancing on me, I took a few steps back, cradling my useless arm.

The beast crouched into a spring, ready to finish me, until its attention was drawn to the sudden war shouts of half a dozen dwarves who, having freed themselves from the cliff side, now made a desperate charge to save their leader. All across the cliff I saw the dwarves clash with orcs and wargs, attempting to form a line between the enemy and their hapless companions, but they were too few to avoid being attacked from all angles.

The warg I was worried about had no time to react to their heroic charge, and ended up with one of Fili's swords splitting its head right through the skull. Another charged Fili from behind, its rider all but useless now with the fire causing such chaos, but the dwarf managed to draw his second sword and deliver a debilitating slash into the beast's wide jaws. The warg's head turned with the impact of the blow, teeth clamping down on Fili's sword as it stumbled and rolled towards Fili, who released both his weapons to stagger backwards away from the impending mass of flesh and bone.

He came to a stop before me, unarmed and unprepared for the sudden attack of the warg's rider, who had managed to deftly land on its feet as the two wargs collided behind. I watched wide-eyed as the orc advanced, and as it drew closer, I realized with horror that I recognized it: the long disgusting hair of the orc that I had burdened not so long ago. There was no question that the orc recognized me too, for he raised his sword and advanced with renewed vigor. Fili waited for the last moment, and then lunged forwards to catch the orc's forearms, stopping the fall of the curved, wicked blade held aloft in the creature's hands. They spun before me, and I could see the dwarf's triumphant grin opposite the orc's hateful scowl until the orc was between the dwarf and I.

Fili's triumph was short lived though, for behind him the wounded warg rose up, a waterfall of black blood foaming around its lips.

"Fili!" I shouted in warning, then threw myself forward despite my injury and locked my good arm around the orc's throat in a vice-grip. Fili looked me in the eyes, and I looked back with steely determination. He nodded faintly in thanks, wrenched the orc's sword from its hand and spun to face the warg. As Fili clashed with the beast, I was forced backwards by the violent struggle of the orc, who twisted and dug its sharp fingernails deep into my arm. Armour plating roughly grated across my injury in the struggle, and it was all I could do to barely hold on as I took several steps backwards.

The orc's head smashed back into my nose and my vision went black, stars sparkling across my eyes. The thick hair of the orc got into my mouth, the taste almost as effective at choking me as my arm was at choking it. One more step backwards, and then another.

My next step was met with much less resistance. My senses spread beyond my immediate danger to realize a much more serious one, for the edge of the cliff was right behind me. I halted my backwards momentum, barely able to get the toes of my foot onto solid ground. The orc must have assumed he was wearing me down, for it stopped pushing backwards and renewed its efforts at wrenching me free from its neck. I could not hold on any longer. The pain was too great. I released the orc, who stepped free from my grasp, spun and lunged wildly at me. With the last of my waning strength, I spun too, and with a grace I thought only reserved for the elves, I took one simple step backwards. The orc fell. I smiled a crooked smile, and the world began to fade around me.

Then, in a not so graceful move, I fell too.


	10. The Eagles are Coming

I awoke on a cloud. Or so it seemed as I smoothly soared through the air on something soft. I opened my eyes a crack and saw a giant eagle flying just nearby. I then rubbed my hand over the smooth feathers I was lying upon, coming to the realization that I was on an eagle myself. I thought I must be dreaming and let my eyes drift close again. Then I began to feel it, a trickling of pain in my shoulder. I scrunched up my face and kept my eyes firmly shut, trying to ignore the new sensation, but it went from a trickle to a steady stream and then to a relentless heavy torrent of unpleasantness. I began to feel other pains as well. In my hands, on my other arm, even my nose felt terrible, along with a sickening throbbing in my head. When the eagle landed I felt I could barely move, but forced myself to slide off its back. I stumbled as I landed on the surface of the rock, falling to my knees and adding another sharp pain to the growing list.

I took a few deep breaths, not wanting to black out again. I'd never before lost consciousness and now I had done so three times in one night. I could not even muster the energy to be excited when the others began to land, though when an eagle gently placed Thorin down and he did not immediately get up, I felt a knot of worry start to grow. Gandalf ran to him as soon as his feet hit the ground.

My vision was then blocked as Bofur rushed over, throwing himself to his knees in front of me. He tilted up my chin, looking over my face with dark worried eyes and when I met them with my own I felt a lump form in my throat and I struggled not to cry. His hand slid from under my chin to lightly rest on my cheek. I closed my eyes, wanting to lean into his touch, but the side of my face felt tender and I vaguely remembered the heavy strike Azog had dealt me when I had first encountered the warg pack.

"I'm sorry." I heard Bofur say in a low voice and felt him drop his hand. "I tried to get to you... we all did..." I looked at him and he was shaking his head, his forehead creased in a deep frown. "Are you alright?" he asked finally, his face strained with concern.

I opened my mouth and attempted to speak but then buckled over in a cough, aftermath of the smoke I'd inhaled. The motion tormented my shoulder. Finally I was able to sit back up but frustrated tears were streaming down my face.

"I don't know." I managed to hoarsely whisper. I then bit my lip and shook my head slightly, feeling all the pain and emotion bubble to the surface. My eyes blurred as they filled with more tears. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against the front of Bofur's shoulder, trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to escape. He carefully wrapped an arm around my back and whispered a few words of comfort in my ear.

"Your shoulder... it needs tending." Bofur stated grimly after I calmed down a bit.

I sighed and sat up. I was terrified to know the extent of the injury to my shoulder. I worried I might never be able to use my arm again. Or it could get infected. I had heard of men dying from less substantial wounds. I felt the cold fear threaten to cripple me in mind as well as body. I looked to Bofur, and he must have seen the panic behind my eyes as he relaxed his expression and took hold of my hand.

"You're going to be fine." he said confidently, finding my hand and giving it small, reassuring squeeze. "I promise."

I then caught movement behind Bofur and looked over him to see Thorin approach, wincing slightly as he walked. I quickly wiped my face as the others parted to let him through.

"I thought you were dead." Thorin said gruffly, stopping beside us and looking down at me sharply. My happiness for his revival dimmed slightly at his less than welcoming remark.

"I thought you were as well." I replied as hotly as I could. He stared at me and then his mouth quirked up into a very slight smirk.

"Perhaps you will reach Laketown after all, barmaid."

The reference to my past would normally have left me rattled, but I swore for a brief moment that Thorin's smirk softened. While it may have been my addled brain playing tricks, it still left me feeling like it was more of a compliment. I would have liked to dwell in the moment of praise, but my aches and pains forced me to close my eyes and take another series of steadying breaths.

"She needs medical attention." Bofur implored, standing up quickly and earning a glare from the company leader.

"She will have to wait, just like the rest of us. We need to move on while the light is with us." Thorin said firmly.

Despite being awake for two nights straight, and most of us sporting injures of varying degrees, Thorin ordered us to continue. And though the top of the 'Carrock,' as Gandalf had called it, would not have been a very comfortable area to sleep, with its rocky surface and exposure to the elements, I was about ready to lie down anywhere. I desperately wished Thorin would have allowed us to make camp for a few hours to recover. My shoulder hurt in the most excruciating manner and the rest of my body was beginning to stiffen up from the abuse it had taken throughout the course of the night.

Bofur helped pull me to my feet, letting me rest some of my weight on him as he guided my good arm around his shoulders. We carefully began to pick our way down the carven stairs of the eyot, my body protested every step and a sheen of cold sweat broke out across my skin from the exertion of it. I felt sick, my world spinning precariously every few minutes causing me to grip harder onto Bofur with the remaining strength I had. I did not wish to slow the company down and so strove to continue putting one foot in front of the other even though it began to feel as if I were in a fog. I felt my ankle buckle but with Bofur's support I kept my balance. My headache continued to throb and I began to hear a ringing in my ears, yet I was so tired it didn't matter. I just wanted to sleep. I don't remember stopping but suddenly found myself looking into the eyes of Óin. He reached out and held up each of my eyelids for a moment, and I frowned, trying to back away, confused by his invasive actions. It seemed like far in the distance I heard Bofur's voice, yet he was still beside me I thought. I turned my head to see that he was indeed at my side but he was looking at Óin. I forced myself to concentrate and his words became clearer and louder.

"She can't go on like this. It's all I can do to keep her upright." he said.

I heard Óin speak next, and lazily turned my gaze back to him.

"Aye, she should not be moving at all, she has a concussion, though how severe I cannot say."

I tried to speak up to tell them I was fine to continue, yet my speech came out quiet and indistinct. In the next moment a wave of nausea overtook me and I tried to turn away, yet the movement caused my field of vision to grow dim as I began to slip in unconsciousness. I heard Bofur say something in alarm though couldn't process what it was, yet I then felt my body being shifted against my will, and suddenly my legs came out from under me as I was lifted off the ground. I cried out in agony as the motion jostled my shoulder and then thankfully my pain slipped away as I fell into the blackness.

* * *

I drifted in and out of awareness as I was carried the remainder of the way to the bottom of the Carrock. I remember glancing up and seeing the silhouette of Bofur's hat above me. In another moment I remember opening my eyes to find myself in the arms of Dwalin, though confused I was too weary to question it and allowed myself to drift off once again.

It must have taken near the rest of the day to reach the base of the Carrock as when I felt myself being set down, I opened my bleary eyes to see the dim light of the overcast sun was low in the sky. As I became more aware I realized I was sitting on the ground, my back leaning against a large, smooth rock. Bofur quickly returned to me and helped me drink a few gulps of cold water. Some of the dwarves were making camp, as best they could without the bulk of their supplies as the area we had descended to had enough relatively level terrain to be adequate. It was also quite protected as we would be sheltered on one side by the steep wall of the Carrock. The far side of the island raised up into steep cliffs, and being situated much closer to the river's opposite shore it forced the water into a channel, swift and deep. On our side, however, the water meandered through a much wider course, slow and shallow enough to be forded by stepping from boulder to boulder - pieces of the Carrock which had detached in ages long ago and diverted half the river on its newer, less restricted route.

I tried to take a few deep breaths but found it difficult as the pain in my body made me tense at the slightest motion.

"Aw, lass." Bofur said softly. I met his worried eyes and tried to think of something reassuring to say, yet I daren't trust my own voice.

"You'll be needing stitches." Bofur continued. "Óin is just checking on Thorin and then he'll be right over."

I nodded carefully. "Are you hurt?" I managed to whisper to Bofur, my throat raw from the smoke I'd inhaled, he gently took my hand.

"Don't worry about me lass, I'm fine... A tad sore." he added with a sad smile. "But I've nothing to complain about."

I tried to grin but doubted my face arranged itself as such in the state I was in. I needed sleep, and food and water. My body was beginning to shut down, but I knew my injury was the priority so I tried to sit up and got Bofur to help me peel off my cloak and outer coat. I noticed the front of my tunic near my shoulder was torn and stained dark from the wound. I sucked in my breath and tenderly touched the edge of the skin. _Pain._ I did not cry out but felt a knot of panic settle in my stomach. At that point Bofur got up and left me for a moment to try and hurry Óin along. I tried to relax for a few moments until I saw Óin amble towards me.

"Come, let's move you over there so I might get a good look at you." he instructed before he helped ease me to my feet. I fought through another wave of dizziness, and was grateful to settle back down onto a low rock nearer to the fire.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to show me a little better, lass." he said after briefly looking at my shoulder. I stared at him dumbly for a moment, while he seemed somewhat uncomfortable, then I finally understood.

"Right." I muttered, slightly embarrassed as I grabbed the hem of my tunic. He turned away as I struggled to pull it over my head with one arm. I gasped in pain as I attempted to free myself, causing the older dwarf to turn back to help me guide it over my neck. I still had a sleeveless white shift underneath, but it was not a garment typically displayed in public. Without any preamble, the older dwarf began his examination, leaning in close to the puncture wound in the front. He tutted disapprovingly.

"I need hot water, cloth, and some mead!" he shouted towards the group at no one in particular. He then moved behind me to look over the wounds on the back of my shoulder. I felt him push, prod and tug at the sight of the impalement, and I held back a cry as he did so.

"It was lucky he didn't rip into the major arteries." Óin explained. "You'd have bled out by now if he did. Now, lassie, if you don't mind, let me listen to you breathe to make sure your lung is still intact."

I sat up a bit straighter and tried to breath as normally as possible as the dwarf laid an ear against the middle of my chest. I wondered, with his state of deafness, whether he would be able to discern anything at all. He simply nodded as he withdrew and I assumed he heard nothing of concern - or perhaps just nothing at all due to his impaired hearing. He then lifted my tunic slightly and felt my abdomen.

"No internal bleeding." he announced. "Fortunate, indeed." He moved his inspection back up to my head, checking my eyes once more. He then lightly placed a hand under my chin and tilted my face up towards him. He studied my nose for a moment, and then ran his thumb down the length of it. It was tender to touch but I was able to tolerate his proddings.

"Not broken. Good." he muttered. He moved onto my hands, holding one up at a time and bringing my fingers close to his eyes, gently bending a few of them. He seemed satisfied by what he saw as he placed my hands back down.

"Anywhere else?" he asked, looking at me kindly. I thought for a moment then lifted my arm to reveal a few deep scratches from the orc I had danced with before tossing him off the cliff. He moved to that side and looked at them critically, mumbling something in dwarvish under his breath as he untied a leather satchel he had on his belt. He then sat down and began to empty it. "I'm afraid, lass, those goblins snagged my main medicine bag." He looked at me pointedly. "That means you're going to have to do without the numbing agent." I nodded hesitantly. "Luckily they didn't get to this, my emergency store. Ah there it is." he held up a silver needle. "Just need to find that roll of sinew..."

At that moment Bofur approached, carrying a wooden bowl filled with some hot water and ripped up pieces of cloth. Óin made a noise of acknowledgement and began to first clean the arm bearing the scratches. As he did so Bofur rang out a piece of cloth as well and then dabbing my face with it, removing the evidence of my previous nosebleed. I felt puzzlingly self-conscious having two dwarves gently clean me up and avoided eye contact with Bofur at all costs. Óin then began working on the front of my shoulder, cleaning off the dried blood around the lesion while I tried not to grimace.

"Doin' alright?" Bofur asked when he was through wiping my face.

"It's not that bad." I lied after sneaking a glance at him and noting the concern etched over his face. I tried to sound cheery, but it had to be at that moment when Óin began to wipe the wounds on my back, and I knew my face contorted a bit despite my best efforts.

"No no, don't be frightened missy." Óin said soothingly, and while I couldn't for the life of me understand why he thought I was afraid, as I was doing my best to hide even signs of pain, Bofur caught my eye and nodded pointedly towards Óin's crushed ear trumpet hanging from his belt. I flashed a quick smile to show I understood.

Óin paused when Gandalf walked up to us. The wizard looked down at me sadly, and then knelt to meet my eye.

"Not many would still be alive after a brush with Azog the Defiler." he remarked with a small smile. "You are a surprising young woman."

I tried my best to offer a genuine smile in return.

"May I examine your shoulder?" he then asked.

I nodded and Óin stepped aside as Gandalf moved in for a better look. He lifted his hand, extending his palm as if he was about to press it against the wound. I braced for pain, but it did not come. He held his hand barely above the flesh, so close that I could feel the soothing warmth coming off it. He closed his eyes, and I watched as his lips moved - just barely, but enough that I could tell something was said under his breath. I felt the warmth spread through my shoulder, not just around but_ in_ the wound. Gandalf stopped speaking, and the warmth receded as if it was never there.

"It seems the luck of these dwarves has rubbed off on you." he remarked somewhat happily. "If you do exactly as Óin tells you, your shoulder will mend. It may never be quite the same, but you should regain most use of it." He brushed his hands against each other and straightened up.

"Clean her wounds as best you can, and stitch her up." Gandalf instructed briskly. He then reached into his cloak and pulled out a frayed dull grey scarf. "For the sling." he added as he set it down nearby. He then left us to it.

"I'll need you to stay in case she needs to be held still." Óin said to Bofur, who looked at him in alarm. "She'll be doing this without the aid of my herbs." he explained, seeing his expression. "Did anyone have a skin of drink still on them?"

Bofur nodded and pulled out a flask from his coat and handed it to Óin.

"This may hurt a wee bit." Óin said as he unscrewed the top.

A strangled cry escaped my lips before I was able to stop myself when the strong liquid hit the wound. It was worse when he poured some over the impalement marks on my back. I covered my mouth with my other hand to keep myself quiet, but the extreme sting made my eyes water. Óin then stepped to my other arm and poured a liberal amount over the orc scratches as well. After a moment the pain subsided into an ache and I blinked out my eyes. Bofur grabbed back the flask and sat down beside me; he gave it a small shake before pressing it into my hand.

"Drink the rest." he told me, so I tentatively tipped it to my lips, letting a bit of the mead into my mouth. I wasn't expecting the dryness of it and I could only swallow a small amount.

"All of it," Bofur insisted, seeing me hesitate, "you'll need it." He nodded encouragingly as I took another few mouthfuls.

Óin then brandished his threaded needle indicating he was ready to start. Bofur took the flask back and set it aside, then surprised me by grabbing my free hand in a strong grip. He looked me in the eyes and nodded slightly; I took a deep breath and nodded back. Óin grabbed my shoulder in a vicelike grip and then after a long suspenseful pause, I felt the needle go through my skin. I tried to hold still, but it was sheer agony. Óin released his grip of me and then I felt a weird tugging at my skin as he tied the sinew. I felt nothing more for a moment before he steadied me once more, and then I felt the needle go through again. I tensed my body in an effort to stay seated and tried my best to keep breathing. After two more stitches in the front I felt weak all over.

Finally he moved to my back just as my vision began to blot, I squeezed my eyes shut. I'm not sure if I yelled out, but after another suture I inadvertently tugged away so hard I escaped Óin's grip. I wasn't aware of anything for a few seconds, just the pain. I eventually caught my breath and opened my eyes; my blurry sight began to register the curious faces of the other dwarves, staring in my direction from the campfire. I realized I was gripping Bofur so hard that when I loosened my fingers they left marks on his skin. I felt the tears on my face.

"I'm sorry." I said, my voice weak and unsteady.

"Don't be." Bofur said gently. "You're doing well."

"I'm nearly done, but we have to keep going." Óin said, not unkindly. Bofur then put one arm securely around my back to help hold me in place, though he gave me his other hand to grasp onto once more. I played with the knit purls of his glove as Óin cut and tied the previous suture. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, pressing my lips together. I gripped Bofur's hand as the needle strung through both edges of my torn flesh a few times more. Once again I got dizzy and hot. I leaned heavily against Bofur, trying to keep my world still.

What seemed like an eternity later Óin leaned back and pronounced "Done." He washed off his hands and then opened a small tin containing some kind of ointment. He smeared some over his work, and gently took my other arm, forcing me to release the vice grip I had on Bofur's hand, in order to coat the scratches as well. He helped me back into my tunic and then took up Gandalf's old scarf and bound my injured shoulder in a sling that folded my arm tightly against my chest. He told me to keep it as immobile as possible for the next few days. I sat there, unmoving, not able to even muster the energy to thank him before he packed up and wandered back to the group.

Finally I was able to compose myself. Bofur moved to stand up and I looked at him rather sheepishly. "Sorry. And thank you for... everything." I stammered.

"Don't mention it." he replied lightly. "I've seen seasoned dwarves make a bigger fuss over stitches. You don't give yourself enough credit." He leaned down and surprised me by wiping away my tears with his thumb, his eyes holding mine as he did so. "You're stronger than you think." he added softly.

I smiled at his words, suspecting they were more comforting than truthful. Although I did not really want to confront the others after I most surely gave them a lot to listen to the past half hour, I moved to stand up as well. Bofur stepped forward to help steady me, then grabbed my jacket and cloak and placed them over my shoulders before taking my arm and leading me towards the group. I felt a bit light-headed, but with Bofur's guidance was able to make it to the fire. I didn't meet anyone's eye as I settled in, leaning my back against the giant rock face.

Dinner was a few grilled reeds pulled from the shoreline and very small chunk of jerky each. Bofur left to help Bombur pass it all out; I couldn't help but watch him as he moved around camp. His unwavering kindness astounded me and I realized I enjoyed his company on such a level that I looked forward to it, almost craved it. Plus his actions this evening, offering me that kind of comfort when I was in such a vulnerable and pathetic state was completely unexpected.

Kili startled me out of my thoughts as he sat down beside me, he picked at his fingernail a moment before looking at me.

"Not many saw what you did back there." he began quietly."But I did. You had my brother's back, when I should have." he looked uncharacteristically upset. "You risked your life for his. Thank you. For saving him."

I smiled tiredly, humbled by the young dwarf's words. "I don't think I saved him." I retorted softly. "I might have just helped him a bit."

Kili studied me, an expression of sympathy playing across his handsome features.

"I will tell my uncle of your deed." he exclaimed suddenly with vigour. "He's too hard on you. You've proven yourself. You are a part of this company as much as anyone else here, and you deserve that respect."

I laid a hand on his arm, shaking my head. "You don't have to do that." I chided softly.

He placed his hand over mine for a moment. "We'll see." was all he said as he got to his feet and left before I could say anything more.

* * *

It proved to be rather difficult preparing for sleep that night. Most of the gear had fallen to some unknown abyss in the goblin tunnels, and apparently the rest had been stripped off by the goblins themselves during their frantic searching. Many of us, including myself, had lost our overnight packs entirely. Anyone with more than one blanket remaining had to share, and even then we were very short. Luckily, since July was now upon us, the temperature seemed to be cooperating and it was a rather warm evening. Most of the dwarves were fine just sleeping as they were. I was given a rather threadbare wool blanket to use and Bofur offered me his coat as well, which, after a good deal of arguing, he let me refuse. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway as my shoulder was throbbing, but I lay down on my good side next to the fire for appearances sake and tried to relax.

After a few hours of extreme discomfort and growing frustration I sat up angrily, roughly swiping away the unbidden tears from my eyes. I was exhausted, but it hurt to lay still, and it hurt to move about, and the ground was exceedingly hard, and trying to use one blanket both underneath and over top you was inconvenient at best. I also was still feeling periodically nauseous and my headache had only gotten worse. Óin had told me that inactivity and rest would help with the concussion, but the fact that actual rest seemed impossible to come by in my current state just added to my aggravation. I looked around the camp, slightly annoyed that, besides Nori on watch, all the others appeared fast asleep while I was alone in my suffering. I leaned forward and prodded the fire, then moved to add more of the collected driftwood, shivering against the cool of the night. Tugging my blanket around me I tried to close my eyes once more, attempting to even my breathing, but after a few minutes my mind automatically began to focus entirely on the dull ache that ran down my back and over my neck and down the length of my arm. I moaned softly and shuffled about for a moment before bringing my knees up to my chin. I used my good arm as a prop and sunk my head down.

Then I heard one of the nearby dwarves sit up. I saw the outline of his hat in the shadows. _Bofur_. Of course, it was always Bofur_._ I silently cursed myself for being too loud because I thought he, at least, deserved rest; he had helped me too much already. He looked in my direction then got up when he saw me and came over. He sank down beside me.

"Can't sleep?" he asked in a much friendlier tone then I would be using if I had been woken in the middle of the night.

"Sorry if I woke you." I mumbled.

"Nah, I wasn't asleep yet... It's bothering you, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"Distract me?" I pleaded. "Tell me what happened when you dropped from the cave."

He nodded and settled in. I leaned into him as he began speaking in hushed tones, describing the weird underworld of the goblins and telling me of their grotesque king, whom, though very full of himself, couldn't really hold a tune. He outlined their lucky escape thanks to Gandalf's intervention and of finding Bilbo at the end when they thought they'd lost him.

"I thought I'd lost you as well." Bofur added quietly when he was done his story.

I didn't speak but instead went very still, hoping he'd continue.

But he didn't.


	11. Home is Behind

Bofur had not intended to fall asleep. Yet after the exertion from facing the stone giants, followed by the escape of the goblin tunnels, not to mention the battle thereafter, even he could not resist succumbing to rest once he finally noticed her breathing even out as she dozed off.

Yet he awoke in the early hours of the morning, a cold sweat on his brow. In his mind, the events of the recent battle replayed in his mind. Engaged on the far side of the assault, cut off from Kili and Fili, and her - his friends - by fire and fangs, watching as they struggled. It was no different than combat on any other occasion, and yet this time it_ was_ different. This time, she had been there, and in his mind he fixated on the point when she grappled the orc on the cliff, and then was gone.

He roused himself, just to see if she was still alright.

She was not.

She lay next to him in a fitful sleep, perhaps caught up in the very same nightmare that he had just awoken from, but it was when he knelt close beside her and laid a hand gently on her good shoulder to comfort her that he felt the heat radiating from her. Hurriedly, he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and then quickly got up, cursing himself for his ignorance.

He roused Óin, not caring if he woke up others as he did so.

"She's taken a fever." he told him as they kneeled down in front of her.

Bofur watched as Óin felt her face as well, and then proceeded to push back her jacket to inspect the wound on her shoulder. Bofur clenched his jaw as Óin undid the wrapping and pulled it aside. He had never been quite comfortable around blood and injury, and felt somewhat unsettled upon seeing the foreign stitching along such fair skin. It had taken all his mental fortitude to stay by her side while she was being mended, yet the thought of her thinking him a coward would have been even worse to bear and so he got over his nerves, and he remained steadfast.

"It doesn't appear infected. See, it is pink, but not red, 'round the edges. No pus either." Óin remarked after several moments of squinting down at the area. Bofur nodded, not feeling the need to inspect it any closer as Óin smoothed some extra salve over it. After redoing her bandaging, the healer mumbled to himself a moment, before snapping his fingers in sudden clarity.

"Help me get this jacket off." he ordered. Bofur acquiesced and when Óin rolled up the sleeve of her tunic, they discovered the source of the infection.

Bofur hissed under his breath and Óin tutted in displeasure as the swollen, angry, red scratches from the orc were revealed.

"They're festering." Óin cursed. "No wonder. Nasty bugger of an orc dug its filthy nails in deep."

"What do we do?" Bofur asked worriedly. He noticed that a few of the others were now getting up and some had wandered up behind them, wondering what was happening.

"Well, for now I'll clean it, apply more salve. When the sun's up, I'll take Ori and we'll scout out some herbs." Óin replied.

"Surely you shouldn't be leaving her like this." Bofur protested, glancing around at the others, all of whom seemed only half interested in what was going on, and as such were of no use.

"Let me go instead." He continued, as Óin stood and bent over to dust off his knees. As the healer straightened, he put Bofur's mind to rest.

"Don't be so affeared of fever, laddie. Her body is doing what it must to burn out infection, and will continue to do so until the infection is gone. All we can do is help speed it along."

Kili, who had been listening nearby, tentatively approached. Bofur glanced at him and saw the young prince looked genuinely concerned. He found this to be a good omen as he could not quite forget Thorin's words: if she slows us, she will be left behind. Surely this would put them behind schedule, yet if Kili vouched for her, there was less of a chance of Thorin following through with his threat.

"Could you burn it out, cauterize the scratches?" Kili asked Óin, indicating towards the fire in case the elderly dwarf did not hear him.

Óin frowned and looked towards the flames, though seemed to take the wrong meaning as his focus fell on the cast iron kettle that sat next to it. "Aye lad, I just said I'd clean the wounds." Looking at the fire, though, seemed to give him the same idea that Kili had just suggested. "I suppose I could have sealed it with flame; if I'd known sooner... would have been a shame for her to bear scars of such treatment though...no. Now the infection is in her body."

Bofur looked towards their human companion with a measure of helplessness. She tossed about, mumbling incoherently, her golden hair plastered against her bruised face. _She should have stayed with the elves_, he thought miserably. He condemned himself for being unkind to her before they were separated on the High Pass, and if she did not recover... well... he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself for it. _What wasted time._ And really, how could she have known that he preferred to keep that part of his history locked away? And what right did he even have to do so, after she had _privileged _him with her own private past? He was a fool, and he only hoped he would have the chance to make amends.

He was suddenly jostled out of his reverie and made to go boil water at Óin's bidding. It was then he noticed Gandalf was finally alert. With renewed vigour he approached the wizard, petitioning him to Óin's side.

Much to Bofur's dismay, however, Gandalf, provided little to no aid.

"I haven't the ability to draw poison from a wound." the wizard explained after briefly lifting the girl's arm for examination. "I may be able to suggest a few herbs, if we might be so lucky as to come across them."

Bofur nodded. "Tell me what they look like. I can find them."

Gandalf looked skyward in thought for a moment then mumbled off a few plants. "Elderberry boosts a body's natural healing. Peppermint for when she awakes to help dull the pain, chamomile will put her back to sleep again... Athelas, however, would be of most use right now."

Bofur shook his head. "I don't know it."

Gandalf frowned. "Kingsfoil? Perhaps you've heard of that."

Still it rung no bells for Bofur, but Óin picked up on the word.

"Aye. Kingsfoil. It could help lower the poisoning. Grows in thickets. It's got a good odour to it, strong but sweet."

Gandalf described more of the plant's appearance while Óin ordered Ori to fetch hot water. Bofur struggled to remember every detail; still, he nodded confidently, and was soon hurrying out of camp and into a more densely forested area across the river.

He surveyed the ground, becoming increasingly frustrated that the wizard did not just offer to look himself. He was a miner, not an herbalist, and knew little of plants in general. Surely an apothecary would have been one of the more useful careers to bring along on the quest - more useful than half of the ones they had already.

"Not that any from the Blue Mountains volunteered, mind you - Uncle Bronn, I'm looking at you. Oh, and who else would have been useful? Maybe an armoursmith, or a navigator, or maybe a few dozen warriors. I'd even settle for a proper baker to give Bombur a day off now and again..." And so his grumblings went, on and on, as he tromped deeper into the forest with a brooding mind and a brooding heart.

After a few hours of searching, he came to an area of rather prolific growth where he thought some of the smaller plants looked at least vaguely like the narrative he was given. He picked mercilessly, grabbing one of each, until he had a whole bouquet of greens. Satisfied with his efforts he began to rush back, startling a rabbit from the underbrush as he did so.

He paused at the sound of an arrow whirring past him and was interested to see the rabbit fall dead. He looked around and saw Kili approaching from nearby, bow in hand.

"Bofur! You nearly scared away the only game I've seen all morning." Kili admonished lightly, coming up and clapping Bofur on the arm. "Thought I'd try to get something, to make broth, you know, for when she wakes."

"Aye. Good thinking." Bofur remarked with a grin as they carried on back to camp together.

"You've brought me the whole forest, laddie." Óin exclaimed as Bofur laid down the selection of plants he had chosen. "Let's see here..." He grumbled and muttered as he spread the plants out on a relatively flat stone, and then began systematically throwing what must be useless ones over his shoulders.

"You're taking your sweet time about it..." Bofur stated dryly. Óin finally seemed satisfied with what he had, though.

"Could you not have simply just picked out the ones you needed first?" Kili remarked as he passed towards the fire with the skinned and gutted rabbit, just as perplexed with Óin's sorting techniques as Bofur. Óin ignored both of them, bustling past Kili to get to the fire first where he poured some hot water into a bowl and then began to mash up the kingsfoil into it. He then tossed the rest of the herbs he had selected right into the kettle with the remaining water and ordered Kili to put it on the fire as he made his way back to his patient.

Applying his poultice on the now cleaned and rather raw looking wounds, he then covered the scratches with some of the wide leaves that Bofur had brought back, as they were far cleaner than any of the fabrics they were wearing at this point, and then bound them with some strips of sinew, which he fussed over until it looked quiet professional. Finally, he stood up and brushed his hands off.

"Give her some tea when she wakes." he mentioned casually as he strode past Bofur and Kili.

"Hang on, Óin, what do we do until then?" Bofur asked helplessly. Óin didn't even turn around, but called back over his shoulder.

"Until then, we wait!"

* * *

My dreams were troubled, and never-ending. I remember feeling cold, and then so hot I could hardly bear it. My entire body was aflame as it fought the infection that coursed through it. Yet I could do nothing but lie disabled in my agony, fluttering in and out of confused consciousness, trying to find respite from the battle raging within.

I was not sentient to anything until I woke up at one point freezing and my entire body was sore beyond belief. I tried to move but my limbs were leaden and I hadn't the strength to even open my eyes. I felt the weight of a blanket fall on me and soon fell back into a fitful sleep.

A lifetime later, I drifted into some semblance of awareness once more, absolutely drenched in sweat. I tossed about, uncomfortable in every respect. I felt an arm slide under my neck and lift me slightly, then a cup was pressed to my lips. I drank slowly, and felt slightly better when I was laid back down.

* * *

I scrunched my eyes tight as rays of sun hit my face, and keeping them closed I took a few deep breaths, trying to assess how I felt. I was no longer sweating and, though cold, I wasn't shivering either. Plus I felt that my thoughts were finally once again my own. Gone were the troubling visions and twisted memories that had been plaguing me since falling ill.

I opened my eyes and noticed that the sun was in fact rising, and wondered if I had been sick through the night. The last clear recollection I had was speaking to Bofur by the fire after being sutured, yet that memory seemed years past for some reason. I turned my head to see Bofur was stretched out sleeping nearby, his hat covering his face. Óin was sitting beside me; he looked over as I shifted about then got up and came to my side.

"Wait, lass, you best take it slowly." he urged as I tried to sit up. All the muscles in my body protested the movement and so I took Óin's advice and lay back down for a moment.

Bofur must have heard us, as suddenly he was up. He righted his hat and then rushed to my side when he saw me awake.

"You're alright?" he asked worriedly, placing his hand on my forehead. I was too surprised to stop him but he seemed satisfied by what he felt as he quickly dropped his arm and beamed at me.

"I think I'll live." I said lightly, though I felt unusually weak.

He smiled, but I noticed a dark emotion hidden in his eyes that I could not quite place.

"I'll get some fresh tea." Óin remarked as he left us alone.

Bofur studied me a moment and I felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny so I told him to help me sit up.

Carefully and slowly I managed to settle into a sitting position, though my vision dotted for a moment and my shoulder burned at the movement. The pain in my upper arm, however, was becoming just as demanding. I looked down to see my sleeve had been rolled up to my shoulder and there were odd, dark, slimy looking bandages covering the scratches I recalled I had gotten.

"Leaves, with mashed kingsfoil." Bofur said as an explanation as he watched my gaze settle on it. I nodded with interest though I knew nothing of herb lore.

"That was a long night." I admitted wearily. "I don't know if I can travel, though I don't think Thorin will be willing to lose a day."

Something in Bofur's expression made me frown quizzically. "What is it?" I questioned.

He looked at me kindly then. "Lass," he said. "You've been with fever for over three days. We were nearly starting to fear the worse."

I gawked at Bofur, astounded and unbelieving that I had lost so much time - lost the group so much time. I shook my head.

"I don't understand. How? Why? Why did you wait for me?" I questioned tiredly.

Bofur's reply, however, was interrupted as Óin returned with a cup of tea and bowl of broth.

"Feeling better?" he asked as he set down my light meal.

I smiled softly and nodded.

"Thank you." I said sincerely, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear me.

He grinned and bobbed his head. "Just doin' my duty."

Bofur had to help me with everything as I found I had little strength in my arms, and my hands were still too unsteady to even feed myself. I worried over this fact, wondering how long it would be before I could continue travelling, wondering if the dwarves would soon tire of waiting. Fortunately, Thorin made no mention of breaking camp that day. He simply walked past me and seemed to note that I was indeed wakeful, yet felt no need to interact with me further.

Gandalf came to me before noon with a few sprigs of a plant he had cut that morning and advised me to slice off the bark and brew it into a tea to help dull the pain. Bofur saw to it immediately, making some extra to store in his now empty flask for me to easily drink from later on. When Kili came over to check on me, I had to convince him to haul me to my feet - Bofur had seemed too nervous to move me that much so soon. Fortunately Kili obliged, and he helped me take a few unsteady steps, to which I then had to coerce him - likely much to his embarrassment - to walk me away from camp a ways so I might relieve some other needs. I otherwise spent the day leisurely sipping a variety of liquids and napping on and off and then Óin changed my leaf dressing once more in the evening.

The next day followed in relatively the same fashion, and I slowly began to feel some measure of strength returning to me.

* * *

The next morning Thorin announced that it would be the last day to recover. I knew I could not yet tolerate too much activity and was relieved to have another day of rest, yet still I worried that I would be too weak on the morrow to carry on with them.

Kili decided to go on a final hunt and broke off from the group, bounding over the stones to the mainland armed with his bow. He was gone for the duration of the morning, and when he returned he was grinning as usual, as he proudly flourished the rewards from his skill; a handful of rabbits and a few grouse.

Lunch was an enthusiastic one and I was happy to be able to get up and sit by the fire with the group for it. I found I was getting a bit more attention than I felt I deserved as certain members of the group made sure I had plenty to drink and even pushed me to have seconds. After resting a while, I was able to talk Bofur into helping me up again, I then shooed him away to test my balance on my own. I felt weak but no longer light-headed, and though my shoulder was still very painful and tender, it was definitely a bit better than before. Still, I was nervous about having to set out the next morning. I walked around camp, but found I tired quickly and soon had to ease myself back down. Óin tended to me every few hours, unbinding the sling and cleaning the stitches. I ran out of my tea rather quickly and Bofur pestered Gandalf to show him where the special plants grew. They returned with a large handful but Gandalf sternly cautioned me to drink it in moderation. I promised I would, and limited myself to one more cup that evening which allowed me to fall asleep rather quickly.

* * *

Despite Thorin's commitment to begin early the next day, we had a slow start. I suspected he was also still recovering from the injuries he received from Azog and his warg: there was a noticeable albeit slight stoop to his shoulders and a permanent scowl on his face as he slowly circled the camp, waking the others up. Bofur brought me a hot cup of tea but I urged him to give it to Thorin instead, claiming I was still feeling the effects from the one I had in the middle of the night.

We eventually got organized well enough to cross over to the mainland as a group. Bofur and Fili both sacrificed the dryness of their boots and pants to help ease me from stone to stone across the river, walking on each side of me with an arm at the ready in case I began to wobble. The stepping stones were wet and slippery, and with one arm tied against my body I found that my balance was completely compromised.

We followed the shoreline for a time before heading into the shadows of the trees, and I was eternally grateful that the set pace for the day was quite slow, and that Bofur let me steady myself against him nearly the whole journey. The terrain quickly got more challenging but thankfully it wasn't much past mid-afternoon when we were called to a stop and were allowed to make camp again.

It was becoming more and more infuriating to be without supplies. I missed having a few of my own belongings in a pack. I lamented the loss of a change of clothing, and even thought wistfully of the elven dress I had 'borrowed.' The thought of it made me subconsciously reach up to my neck and I was pleasantly surprised to feel the necklace from the troll cave still there, hidden beneath the collar of my tunic. If that orc had spotted it while pawing at me he surely would have ripped it off. I ran my fingers along it possessively, knowing it was the only thing of value I now owned. I would pawn it when I reached Laketown so I would not have the shame of knocking on my mother's door while dirty and penniless.

The dwarves at least had their weapons, plus each one still seemed to possess a few meagre items not taken by the goblins.

"Bofur, do you still have your pipe?" I asked idly as I fussed over the loose threads of my makeshift sling. I eagerly anticipated when it could be removed; my arm really needed to stretch and my shoulder was becoming increasingly itchy.

He looked thoughtful for a moment as he dug inside his coat.

"Aha!" he proclaimed happily as he pulled it out along with a small pouch of leaf. I smiled.

"Not that I condone smoking, but you should go relax." I urged gently. He had spent the past few days ensuring my needs were met, sometimes at the cost of his own, and I knew he hadn't had much time to himself. He looked at me quizzically. "You don't have to babysit me anymore." I added with a grin.

"But I like babysitting you," he teased as he stood up. "It's my new job, you know. I'll be sending you the bill later."

"Ha Ha." I retorted sarcastically. "Just leave me your flask."

"Fine, but pace yourself missy." he instructed with mock firmness and a wink before heading over to the fire to light up.

I allowed myself a quick nap before dinner, after which Óin came to look over my stitches. I could not hide my excitement when he said they could likely come out within a few days. While the sling was off, he took my hand and gently pulled and bent my arm into different positions, some of which made me draw in a quick breath, but none of which hurt so badly as to make me cry out. My shoulder ached from the movements, but it no longer felt irreparably damaged. Óin muttered to himself, nodding a few times, then informed me that I appeared to be on the mend. He redid my sling and I instantly felt better than I had in days.

* * *

The next day we travelled no faster, but we did travel longer and I was exhausted by the end of it.

I slumped down to the ground when we finally found a spot to overnight at and I instantly fell asleep for a bit. I was gently roused awake a while later and handed a smoked rabbit thigh and some concoction of herbs in a tea which helped revive some of my energy.

Later that evening I was contemplating asking Bofur some questions about his life. We were sitting a bit separate from the others, so it was an opportune chance to have a more private conversation. I wanted to know more about his past, but I didn't quite know what kind of questions would land me in dangerous territory and cause him to become upset with me again. I chewed the inside of my cheek, looking at him intently.

"What is it, lass? I can tell you have something on your mind." Bofur asked exasperatedly after a few good minutes of this.

I grinned, slightly abashed. "Well," I began, raking my mind for something easy to begin with, I noticed the firelight shine off something near his jaw as he tilted his head. "I was just wondering about your earrings, what are they fashioned from?"

He laughed. "Honestly, I've no idea myself. They were a gift from Bifur. He won't tell me. I suspect they are the teeth from some unlucky beast that came across him during a bad mood."

I smiled. "Do dwarf women pierce their ears as well?" I asked, subconsciously touching my own unpierced lobes.

He reflected for a moment then nodded. "Most do. You'll even see many dwarf children with pierced ears."

I bit back a weighted question that I desperately wanted to ask, but knew I must not - _do you have any children_?

Instead I nodded politely and decided to keep the conversation light.

"I've never seen a human with any piercings," I told him nonchalantly. "Well, perhaps I might have on traders... but I can't remember ever really noticing."

Then I fell silent once more, twirling my hair in my fingers. It was getting too long for a journey such as this, I had to keep it tied back or braided for it to be even tolerable or else it just became a tangled mess.

"I doubt that was all that was troubling you?" Bofur asked me after a moment. I blinked at him.

"Have you ever even _been_ to the Lonely Mountain?" I demanded suddenly.

He stared at me, looking somewhat startled. "No. Have you?"

I tutted. "Do you think that one day the dragon just threw open the doors to Erebor, peacefully welcoming all the people of Laketown to come and go?"

I regretted my sharp, mocking tone when he looked away, clearly embarrassed by his slip of tongue. I had been born under the rule of Smaug, I was much too painfully young to know anything else, and he was, of course, aware of this.

"I just don't understand why you're doing this..." I continued softly. "You and your kin. You have no ties to the mountain, or to Thorin as king. What are your plans after it all?" I didn't add _if you're still alive_, though I knew it to be a real possibility.

Bofur looked back to me, his expression unreadable. "I decided to join this quest because I've known Thorin for many years, and though he's not my kin, he is my friend. I wanted to help him, if I could. I also really had nothing to lose."

I bit my lip, chagrined by his honest words.

"I thought if we succeeded," he continued after a moment. "I would be able to live out my life in wealth and comfort, away from the Blue Mountains... Away from the memories of home."

* * *

I kept a steady watch on Óin the following day, hoping each time I caught his eye would be the time he'd smile, nod, then come and remove the stitches and the blasted sling for good. However, he kept to his own schedule, despite my incessant looks. We made a decent pace through the forest, though I could not keep up as easily as I once did. Bofur stayed in step beside me, but I let a few of the others overtake us so that we were at the back. I huffed a quick apology to Bofur as I took a moment for myself, leaning against a large tree to try and catch my breath.

"I'm just not as young as I used to be." I explained sarcastically after wiping my sweaty forehead with my usable arm.

Bofur laughed and pulled me back onto the path.

Just before sundown Óin sought me out. I smiled and enthusiastically brandished my arm for him. He tested my mobility once more, inspecting the healed seams for any sign of tearing while he did so. Finally he nodded and placed my hand down by my side to begin the process of removing the sutures. Though not the most pleasant sensation, they definitely felt better coming out than they did going in. He urged me to continue wearing my sling full-time, but after my moans of protest he reasoned that I could take it off during the day so long as I was careful, and had me promise to wear it still at night.

"I'd recommend plenty o' bed rest and good hearty meals, but at this rate..." he looked over towards where Thorin was obsessively busying himself with the next day's preparations. Our pace would be increasing steadily as he regained his strength. "...well, we'll just have to take what we can get. Sleep up now. I expect we'll be getting an early start. The next few days are going to be scorchers if the portents are to be believed. I saw a lark nesting in a sparrow's nest this afternoon..." He tapped his nose, as if bestowing upon me some hidden knowledge, then winked and left me to fall asleep with a confused smile.


	12. Keep It Secret

Óin's bizarre weather predictions proved to be correct as the next morning brought an uncharacteristically hot sun. The day passed slowly and I could tell from the constant stream of angry mutterings and mumblings surrounding me, that the dwarves greatly disliked the heat. I quickly developed an aversion to the higher temperature along with them as I found that my head began to swim if I tried to move too fast, and I could not seem to drink enough water to feel hydrated.

"Can you sing?" Bofur asked me out of the blue as we began to trail further behind the others.

"Probably not." I replied in a dull voice, wanting to change the topic already.

"What do you mean 'probably'?" he persisted. "Don't you know for sure?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, it's been so long since I've even tried."

Bofur's eye lit up and he opened his mouth to speak, but I immediately cut him off. "I'm not going to try right now." I stated firmly.

"Oh come now, I'm sure you have a lovely voice!" he insisted with a smile. "I'll sing for you, if you sing for me?"

"No." I repeated, shaking my head, but smiling a bit at his enthusiasm. "Besides, that's not a fair trade at all! You're a great singer. Everybody knows it, so you have nothing to worry about. But I could end up being total rubbish."

We walked a bit more in silence. Eventually I peered at him; he had his mattock balanced up on his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows when he met my eye.

"Is it weird for you to have to look _up_ at a woman?" I asked, suddenly curious. I was slowly growing accustomed to the height difference between myself and the group; it was almost becoming second nature to meet an eyeline below the level of my own. And, though taller, I had never felt in any way more authoritative then any of them, in fact most of the dwarves still rather intimidated me.

"I've grown used to it." he said with a cheeky grin. "Besides, you're definitely not broader or stronger or heavier then I am, so don't worry, I still retain my ironclad masculinity around you."

I laughed.

"Is it strange for you to be so tall?" he continued after a few paces. This made me laugh again.

"I'm not _so tall_!" I replied. "I'm perfectly regular sized. All of you are just very short." I shot him a teasing look.

"Oh no." Bofur rebuked with a chuckle. "You're all giants. We dwarves are the regular-sized ones."

"Are you sure?" I asked playfully. He clucked his tongue in exaggerated annoyance but shot me a quick wink.

Once we found a completely shaded location the dwarves quickly called an end to our procession and sat down wearily. The lot of us simply lay down and rested until the evening's coolness set in, and even still I used my blanket as a pillow that night as I was warm enough simply in my jacket to sleep.

* * *

I was dismayed to wake up the next day feeling slightly ill as it was already too warm. I became increasingly more agitated as the temperatures climbed throughout the morning and by midday it was sweltering. On the other hand, it was better than travelling in the rain, but I was still utterly miserable. I was tired and sore, granted, and my shoulder still ached, but worst of all was that I felt grossly sticky from the accumulated layers of sweat, dirt and blood. By mid-morning I was sweating even more, and I was certain I could even_ smell_ myself. I fell to the very back of the group, feeling very self-conscious and wanting to avoid as much contact with others as possible. I couldn't understand how the rest of them could go any span of days and look relatively unchanged, good even, whereas I knew for sure I looked as awful as I felt - if not worse.

I had been wistfully gazing at the River Anduin as we followed its course, and had made up my mind that when we stopped I would wade in to wash off. However, as the morning progressed we began to veer away from it once more, heading deeper into the forest. It took all of my willpower not to shout for them to stop, but I knew that Thorin's opinion of me was still shaky at best. We _had_ to be breaking for lunch soon, any moment really. I reasoned I should still be able to get back to it while the others ate, yet I grew more anxious with every step I took away from the water. Eventually it was out of my sight altogether. I strongly considered speaking up, but after another few minutes it finally sounded as if they had found an area to stop. As I caught up with the group I saw they had chosen a sheltered little glade, surrounded by thick trees and flanked on one side by a large rock face. It was an ideal location to make a small cooking fire and still stay unseen.

"Kili, Fili, take the canteens and go refill them at the river." Thorin ordered briskly.

I stood back, watching the two dwarves as they collected the remaining water carriers. When they were about to head back down the trail I accosted them.

"Please, let me do it." I said, stepping in front of their path. They looked at me confused. "I need to wash off." I explained quickly. "I might as well take care of the waters at the same time." I smiled and grabbed the canteens from Kili before he could protest, then turned to go.

"Well, you can't go alone." Kili explained as he caught up to me. "It's not safe; the orcs are still hunting us. Plus you're injured." He looked around the camp, his eyes settling on Bofur who was standing nearby with his brother. He raised his eyebrows at us when he saw us both glancing at him. I looked back at Kili, about to protest when I saw the small, expectant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Someone should go with you." Kili continued loudly before I could speak. "To stand watch." He might as well have added a huge wink for all the subtlety his words possessed.

I rolled my eyes and began to tell them I was fine on my own, but Bofur agreed to accompany me despite my objections.

"Really Bofur, you've done too much for me." I retorted as he took some of the canteens from my arm and urged me onwards. In good spirits as usual, he insisted it was no trouble so I eventually nodded and we began to backtrack towards the river. I fell in step slightly behind him and we walked mostly in silence, but as we began down the slope towards the banks I could not contain my excitement and quickened my pace.

As we came up to the river's edge, I let the canteens fall to the ground then sat to take off my boots.

"Come in the water with me?" I asked, turning to look back at Bofur, grinning.

"Oh no, that was not part of the plan." Bofur replied, shaking his head and pointing his finger at me in a teasing manner. "I am simply your humble guard. You bip into the shallows to wash up while I keep watch for bandits and beasts and monsters."

I laughed. "But what if there are bandits in the river? Would you come in then?"

"Bandits in the river!" Bofur repeated incredulously. "Well, I've never heard of an aquatic band of thieves."

"But _what if_? Would you come in and save me?" I urged with a smile.

Bofur grinned, leaning on his mattock. "Perhaps."

I began undoing my overcoat. "Well in that case I would just suggest coming in now, to save you the trouble of making that decision later. The water looks something fierce; anything could be lurking in its depths." I stated lightly. "Plus this is maybe the hottest day we'll see on this journey. You must be warm?"

I looked at him again; he didn't respond but looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm leaving my underclothes on, if that's what you're worried about. No need to break any gentlemanly habits." I said tartly as I untied my hair. As mean spirited as it was, I was actually enjoying watching him squirm, but enough of the mockery. I put on my brightest smile and tried a different approach. "Come for a swim?" I asked politely. "There's no harm in it. I promise it'll be worth it."

When he failed to reply once more I decided to no longer pester him. I sighed but continued to remove my leggings and other garments until I was only clad in my now rather not-so-white white shift. It was definitely not proper to be in front of anyone in such a state of undress, but I was desperate and hadn't anticipated an audience. I presumed Bofur would actually _be_ a gentleman anyway and keep his gaze away from the river while I entered it. Plus, he_ had_ come across me in more compromising situations; I shook my head in slight amusement as I recalled the time my clothes had been stolen away as a prank, courtesy of the meddling Kili of course.

I wandered up to the water's edge; I could see the shore disappear relatively fast underwater indicating its depth. I stuck my foot in. It was cold, shockingly so. I looked around and noticed that up the shoreline an old tree had fallen, likely many years previous; its trunk was suspended partially over the water. I nodded to myself and made my way to it. I tested its strength as I lightly stepped up onto it, taking slow, careful steps forward. Age and the elements had stripped away a lot of the bark and most of its branches, but it felt quite stable so I walked to the very end of it. I aimed to make use of it as a platform to quickly lower myself into the deeper water from, which I felt would be easier than tiptoeing my way out from shore.

I stood there for a moment, taking in the scene, it was a beautiful day, and the river itself was pristine, the sun warming my bare skin.

I gasped loudly and almost lost my balance as I felt something grab hold of my arm. I swung around and Bofur used both hands to steady me. I began to smile, thinking he had changed his mind about accompanying me into the water, but then noticed he was wearing all of his clothing, and a dark expression.

"What do you think you are doing?" he asked sternly, removing his steadying hand from my waist but keeping a firm grip on my arm.

I stared at him, confused. "I am going for a swim." I replied stupidly. "I thought we went over this already."

"You can't jump in." he stated, taking a step backward towards shore and pulling me with him.

"What?" I asked, planting my feet firmly to keep myself from being tugged further. "I wasn't-"

"It's dangerous. Your shoulder isn't fully healed. There could be a strong current, or an undertow."

"No. There isn't." I retorted briskly, growing frustrated that my much needed wash was being unnecessarily delayed. It was all I had been looking forward to for days and I wished nothing more than to go hide beneath the surface until I could at least wash the grime from my skin.

"I grew up in a town in the middle of a lake, Bofur! I'm a fine swimmer, even with a bad shoulder. Just let me go, I wasn't going to dive anyway." I stepped back, trying to gently pull my arm of his grip. I forced him to take a few steps forward with me as he tried to adjust his grip without tugging on my bad arm or grabbing overtop the scratches on my other.

"Let go." I growled, pushing his hand away, and quickly moving to the edge of the log, thinking to just jump in anyway. He saw me look at the water and hurried forward to stop me. Our combined weight at the very end of the log was more than the steep bank could bear, and without its support, the log - large as it was - gave way and dropped nearly a foot.

Suddenly we were both tipping over the edge, carried by our own momentum supplemented by that of gravity's own gentle, malicious pull. I fell backwards, and was thankful in my very brief moment above water to see Bofur's wild grab at me had caused him to spin off the log to one side as well.

I broke surface, sputtering and blinking water out of my eyes. I looked around and saw Bofur's hat floating nearby and then Bofur himself popped up. I tested my shoulder, ensuring I hadn't done harm to it. The cold water stung my flesh wounds but otherwise it seemed fine as I had tucked and held my arm against myself as I had fallen.

"Are you alright?" Bofur asked quickly.

I smiled brightly at him and nodded. He nodded as well but did not seem bemused. He swam forward and grabbed his hat, tossing it up onto the fallen tree which, while considerably lower to the water, was still dry along its top.

"Well, it _is_ a good day for a swim." I said flippantly when he continued to frown, moving forward and splashing him full on the face.

He reached a hand off to wipe clear his eyes and then a mischievous glint appeared in them. "That was a bold move, missy, something you might come to regret."

I looked at him challengingly and then ducked under before a large wave of water could hit me. I surfaced, mocking offence and anger and splashed him back. After a few moments of chaos we eventually made peace and fortunately he seemed in good spirits once more.

"Here." Bofur said with a smile after rummaging in his very wet and heavy looking coat. He swam closer and handed me a misshapen light brown square of something. "Soap," he explained when I looked at it quizzically. "You can use it in your hair too."

I gasped in delighted surprise. "I cannot believe you still have soap, of all things!" I thanked him profusely and swam until I found an area shallow enough to stand up in to wash. I heard him splashing towards shore and glanced over to see him remove his coat and boots when he reached land. I looked away, unsure how many other articles he was going to remove and wanting to give him privacy. Mid-wash, though, a thought occurred to me and I paused. "Why didn't you tell me you had this sooner?" I demanded, feigning severity. "I would have given anything for a piece of soap if I'd have known someone had one."

His voice sprung up closer than I expected, I turned to see him waist deep in the water nearby. I tried not to gape at his bare chest.

"_Anything?_ Well if I'd have known that..." Bofur quipped playfully, but cut his words short when I shot him a mocking glare. He chuckled. "To be honest, I didn't want the other lads knowing I stashed a bar, or else it would be gone in a flash." he said with a grin. "You've no idea the amount of product it takes to keep a dozen dwarves smelling fresh."

I snorted and tossed the soap back to him, then ducked under for a rinse.

"Didn't I tell you it would be worth it?" I shouted a few minutes later as I lazily floated on my back, letting the current take me. I felt completely refreshed by the cool water, especially since it had numbed my injuries.

"I'm glad I listened." he responded, and I heard him splashing his way towards me. I opened my eyes and squinted around to see him floating nearby. I smiled and let my body sink back down into the water. Kicking to stay afloat and treading water with my good arm, I noticed how different he looked without his hat, or many other clothes for that matter. I smiled, trying to think of an excuse to make it seem like I wasn't outright staring.

Then something slimy slipped around my ankle. I shrieked in panic, trying to swim away but feeling more groping _things_ tangle about my legs and feet. I crashed over to Bofur as best I could without straining my shoulder, and then grabbed about his neck with my good arm, trying to pull my legs up as high as possible.

"What is it! What's the matter?" he cried, trying to keep us both afloat.

"There's something in the water." I yelped. "It tried grabbing my legs."

"What! Oh, wait, calm down." He said, trying to still my movement. "You've only just drifted into a weedy section."

Immediately I knew he was right and stopped squirming. I looked at him guiltily, but his eyes were bright and amused, a grin playing across his face.

"And here I thought you just couldn't stay out of my arms any longer." he commented slyly.

I smiled, feeling embarrassment flush across my cheeks. It didn't help that I became suddenly acutely aware that I was nearly pressed up right against him, my arms wrapped around his neck, his one hand at my side to steady me. I looked way quickly, clearing my throat, and then let my arms loosen. Yet some bravery (or foolishness) compelled me to not immediately pull back but instead let my one hand slowly trail down his bare shoulder, my fingers tentatively coming to rest in the middle of his chest while I let the other lightly grasp his arm for support. I knew the dwarves were built more rugged then human men, but I was suddenly conscious of his extreme muscle tone. Next to him I began to feel somewhat delicate in comparison, and I inexplicably enjoyed the sensation of it.

Another spot of courage dared me to glance back up into his eyes. He was looking at me curiously, cautiously. I wondered if we were both debating what to do next. I soon reasoned, however, that he wouldn't want to do _anything_ next. I was a human. He probably found me just barely tolerable at best. I involuntarily stiffened at the notion, and he quickly pulled away from me.

"We should start drying off." he said, giving me a small smile before beginning to swim back upstream to where we came in. I stayed put for a moment, lost in thought, but then another plant stroked my leg and I retreated for shore as well.

By the time I reached land Bofur had already slipped into his pants and was sitting on the grass checking over his boots. I walked out of the water, feeling rather exposed as I felt my slip cling to my body in a rather extreme fashion. I clenched my jaw and tried to act more confident than I felt as I walked towards him. He looked up at me for a long moment with a weird expression on his face as I approached. I hoped he wasn't judging my body too harshly, knowing it likely appeared rather alien if dwarf women were indeed much like dwarf men in physicality. I tried to act informal as I sat down beside him and began wringing out my hair, finally enjoying the warm sunlight that beamed down upon us.

"It's unfair how easily you bruise, how thin your skin is..." he mused softly after a minute, quickly glancing down at a large yellowing discolouration that spanned down the side of my thigh. His gaze then landed on marks on my arm, travelled to my shoulder and then down to another partially healed bruise on my wrist. His frown deepened. I realized, although now clean and shining in the sun, as marred as my body currently was, I probably still looked somewhat wretched.

"My face?" I asked, suddenly concerned, my hand flying up to touch around my nose. I had nearly forgotten the painful blow I had received from the back of the orc's head, and had not even bothered to glance at my reflection over the past few days. I looked at Bofur worriedly, wondering if there was an unsightly dark bruise he was seeing in the middle of my face whenever he looked back at me.

"Looks fine." he assured quickly. "You had black eyes for a few days. Now there's just a hint of bruising left here." He reached up and stroked a finger along my cheek."

"Azog has a good backhand." I replied cynically as I flopped down onto my back, closing my eyes and planning to let the sun dry me off. After a moment I heard Bofur follow suit, I smiled to myself and creaked open an eye, turning my head just slightly to try and look at him better.

His eyes were closed, so I finally had free reign to observe him. His shoulder span was large, as was his chest, which was covered in a moderate amount of brown coarse hair. I had wondered about the true hairiness of dwarves, as I had heard folktales that they were covered nearly head to foot like a bear, but this was normal. I had seen human men with body hair comparable to this. His arms were larger and more toned than I would have guessed, at least double the thickness of my own. One of his hands was resting on his chest and I noted that they appeared wider than mine, and though I suspected I had longer fingers, his were much thicker. I wanted to grab it and hold it against mine to compare. My curiosity was about to get the better of me when Bofur stirred.

"You're staring." he stated, matter-of-factly, his eyes still closed.

I started to protest then he opened an eye and squinted over at me, a smile starting at his lips.

"Oh fine." I huffed, sitting up. "But in my defence I've never seen a dwarf without a top on, so you can't blame me for taking a peek."

"Hmm," he mused with a grin. "Is it what you expected?" he asked after a moment's contemplation, sitting up and turning to face me as well.

I bit my lip for a moment, unsure how to answer. "Yes... And no. I didn't expect dwarves to look so... normal." I flushed. "Sorry, that's not what I meant." I stammered, trying to explain. "I mean, you look so similar to human men... Not that I've seen _many_ naked men." I added quickly, and then realized what folly I had just voiced. I groaned, embarrassed, then gave him a shove him after seeing his bemused expression.

"Oh, you know what I mean." I snapped, trying not to smile. "But really, I don't know what I would have expected to be different about you anyway." I added thoughtfully. "I assume all the... parts are the same for men, dwarves and elves..."

Bofur smirked as I trailed off awkwardly. "Oh aye, though dwarf 'parts' are far superior I hear." he retorted with a gleam in his eye.

"Oh, shut it." I said exasperatedly, hoping my blush would disperse quickly. My focus fell down to his hand once more.

"May I?" I asked, gesturing to it.

He looked at me curiously but lifted his hand to me. I grabbed it and held it up, then pushed my palm up against his, lining my fingers up with his. We both looked at them, the differences, and similarities. As I suspected, my fingers were much slimmer than his, and longer by almost an inch, however the breadth of his hand was wider then my own. His skin was darker, marked by a few faded scars. Conversely, my own fingers still had a few scabs and some new pink scarring from the traumas of the mountain pass, and my nails were just beginning to grow out nicely again. I brought his hand back down then lined up my wrist against his. The difference in size was rather considerate; it looked like he would be able to snap my arm with just his hand if he so desired, whereas I wouldn't be able to even fully encircle his wrist in my grasp.

He looked down and then traced his hand along my arm. He paused, then gently took my hand in his. "You are so fair. In every sense." he said quietly. I sat as still as possible, my heart hammering. He looked up into my eyes; his usual light sparkle was replaced by something else.

Slowly, carefully, he reached his other hand up to my face, I felt his rough fingers brush my cheek and I very slightly leaned into his touch. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and then moved his hand to rest against the back of my neck.

I could literally hear my own heartbeat.

He looked down at my lips and back up, meeting my eyes. A question?

I was more nervous then I have ever been in my life but managed to think clearly enough to lean in, just a tad. An answer.

I closed my eyes as he pulled me towards him, our lips met. He kissed me gently, maybe too gently, so I leaned into him further and reached out to steady myself with a hand on his chest.

And then suddenly, it was over. He pulled away from me rather abruptly, his expression riddled with worry.

"I'm sorry." he began, almost in a fluster, moving to get up. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

Quickly, I grabbed hold of his lower arms and pulled him back down. "Bofur, please, it's alright." I tried to reassure him. I smiled shyly but his face remained tense. "Don't apologize." I let my grip on his arms lessen. "I... wanted you to..." I finished awkwardly, looking down and biting my lip.

"But why?" he asked. I peered up at him, his eyes had softened and he had a small, sad smile. He shook his head slightly then looked back to me and placed his hand on my cheek. "You're too young, and beautiful. Especially for me." he said quietly, he stroked his thumb along my jawline then removed his hand and sat back.

I stared at him, a confused smile playing around my lips. "No. I'm not." I responded seriously, I leaned towards him, wanting to kiss him, to reassure him, but he turned his head. I stilled my advances and when his gaze returned to mine his eyes had lost their sparkle.

"We need to get back." he said stiffly.

We got ready in silence. His words were heavy on my mind. I wasn't sure what to make of them. Did he sincerely think he should not be with me, even though he wanted to be? Or did he not want to be with me at all, and that was simply the best and most polite-sounding excuse for it. What of all the flirting? _Was_ it harmless? Could anything come of it anyway? The differences between us were rather severe. Have dwarves and humans ever mingled in a more... _intimate_ manner? Regardless, I could no longer deny my feelings for him, as confused as they were, yet I did not want to subject myself to further embarrassment, so I decided I would not bring it up again.

Kili eyed us as we ambled up the path and approached the group, his eyes bright and a hidden smile in his expression. "I hope your swim was worth it! You missed a good lunch." he said to us, looking at me knowingly after glancing at Bofur's wet attire. I could not prevent what I knew was a blush spreading over my face, so I hurriedly busied myself in passing out the full water canteens, trying to ignore my racing thoughts.

* * *

The remainder of the day proved to be quite uneventful, yet it began to cloud over in the afternoon and by evening the heat had finally broken. We were so low on food that Thorin ordered Kili and Fili to scout the area to try and find _anything_ for dinner. They returned after dark and the group shouted and hurrahed to see a doe draped over Fili's shoulder.

It was a late night as we waited for the deer to cook. I shivered, scooting closer to the fire and pulling my cloak tight about my shoulders.

"Here." Bofur said, handing me a huge portion of venison. I looked at him incredulously. "You need some meat on your bones." he added lightly. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the proffered piece. Despite our puzzling riverside moment, it seemed that Bofur was still acting normally around me, for which I was grateful. I vowed to behave tactfully in return.

"So what are your plans?" he continued after he fetched a helping for himself and settled down next to me.

"For what?" I asked.

"When you make it home?" he looked at me curiously in between bites.

"Oh. I hadn't really thought that far ahead." I said, pondering for a moment but keeping my eyes on my food. "Obviously I'll reunite with my family when I arrive. Then I suppose I'll have to find a job... or a husband." I sighed and glanced at him for a moment. "Truthfully the lives of mortal woman are not often noteworthy."

Bofur looked at me sceptically, then nodded his head thoughtfully and looked down to his food.

"What?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing.

"No, never mind."

I brandished a bone towards him in a mock threat. "Tell me."

He looked up at me, his expression suggesting that he thought it was obvious what he was going to say, but I truthfully had no idea, and so once he realized this he went on.

"You're going to settle into a life of mediocrity after all this? The woman who saw the stone giants straight out of legend. The woman who rode with a warg pack and lived to tell the tale. The woman who dragged an orc _off a_ _cliff_ to save the life of another! I mean, who does that? You - you have to be one of the most courageous, reckless, and damned lucky people I've ever met!" His passionate response was drawing glances from the others, and I shrunk down into myself, wishing I could meld into the stump, saving me from embarrassment. Bofur noticed, and began again in a more hushed but still powerful tone.

"People aren't _born_ to live noteworthy lives. The lads and I are an exception to the thousands of dwarves back home who are living normal, settled lives. We _chose_ to be here, just like you _chose _to run halfway across the world. And just like you _chose_ to be a crazy, idiotic vigilante and nearly got yourself killed more than once. But now, look at what you've seen, at what you've _done_, you'll have more stories than any other maiden, that's for sure... We can't go back to the settled life - none of us, Thorin, Kili, Óin, Bifur - we're all going to make our lives noteworthy or die trying, and if I'm not mistaken, maybe..." he smiled a broad smile and reached out to clasp my shoulder. "...just maybe, you'll do the same."

"Besides," He added cheekily, "If you wanted a life that wasn't noteworthy, you could'a saved yourself the trouble and stayed in Bree."


	13. Mist and Shadow

Overnight the temperature plummeted and we awoke to skies dark with rain. Few words were exchanged that morning as we pulled our cloaks and jackets tight around us and began to plod along. Shortly thereafter the downpour began. The wind drove the rain into us and sapped our energy and spirit. Luckily the torrent finally ceased in the afternoon, but it became steadily colder.

That evening, after we had found an area to camp at, I heard my name being called by Thorin. I glanced up at him in confusion; he had barely so much as looked at me since I rejoined the group.

"Go and help Kili get wood." he ordered after he saw he had my attention.

I had clearly been spending too much time with a certain dwarf that favoured somewhat impolite innuendos because I couldn't keep back a small grin at his choice of words.

"You want me to help Kili... _get wood_?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows and shooting Kili, who stood on the edge of the camp, a parodic stare. I was extremely pleased to see the dark-haired dwarf finally look sheepish for once.

"What part of that did you not understand?" Thorin asked. "Your hands work, do they not? Put them to good use."

I quickly stifled a laugh. "As you wish, Thorin." I conceded. "I guess certain tasks should be expected of the only woman here." I said more quietly to Bofur, who grinned up at me while shaking his head at my sass. I then rose up and headed towards where Kili was standing. As I passed Thorin, I couldn't help but add "Maybe next time I can help _you_ get wood."

Thorin simply scowled and shook his head, seeming completely oblivious, while Bofur guffawed out loud and fell backwards off the log he had been sitting on.

* * *

As night began to fall the wind picked up and soon I could barely stop my teeth from chattering. It had proved impossible for Kili and I to actually find any dry wood, but Gandalf eventually took over and was able to get a tiny blaze going after many curses were uttered by the dwarves in their failed attempts. We huddled about it after dinner, pressed shoulder to shoulder until our clothes were a bit drier, before we broke apart to find places to lie down. I wandered over to a line of rocks to help break the wind, and kicked away some of the loose stones before placing down my meagre blanket. Bofur brought me his flask with the last of the tea; it was still slightly warm from being next to his body. I gratefully drained it. He set his things near me and lay down. I did the same.

Though the boulders did help with the wind, the ground was cold and damp, and I was still frigid. I jammed my fingers in my armpits and curled as small as possible, holding the folded over edge of the blanket in a vice. I could see Bofur's shadowed form a few feet away. He didn't look to be suffering in the same way, and I envied him and the rest of the dwarves for their thicker attire and larger body mass.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried desperately to fall asleep, but the cold was in my bones, making my limbs ache and my muscles sore. After a while my shoulder began to throb as the tea wore off as well. I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to keep as much heat in my core as possible. I thought I eventually heard someone speak but the wind blew away the words before I could make them out. I opened my eyes and lifted my head a tad. I could see Bofur was propped up looking in my direction, though I couldn't quite make out his features in the dark.

"You're freezing aren't you?" he whispered loudly in the span between gusts.

"No, I just sleep like this all the time." I replied, the words coming out more heated than I intended.

He didn't move for a moment, but then got up and crawled over. He lay down on his back next to me on the ground, I straightened out a bit to allow him closer and he threw his blanket over both of us.

"Thank you." I whispered.

After a few minutes I tentatively slid my hands over his chest, and reached the opening of his coat, hoping to shove my fingertips underneath the collar of it to help warm them up. During this process I accidentally grazed the bare skin at his neck, causing him to flinch.

"You're hands are like ice." he said with surprise. He suddenly grabbed them both, placed them between his, and rubbed them gently. "You really _are_ frozen." he stated softly. I looked at him, my discomfort likely reflected in my expression.

"Come here then." he gently ordered as he let go of my hands and opened up his arm in welcome. I sighed in grateful relief as I shifted my head up onto his shoulder and snuggled into his side. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and he held me close against him, past the point of propriety. I snuggled gratefully into his side, placing my head below his shoulder. He laid his free hand atop mine on his chest and I couldn't help but feel contentment.

"You're too nice to me you know." I muttered softly as my body slowly relaxed. He didn't respond and I fell asleep soon after.

Waking in the middle of the night I discovered we had shifted in our sleep, I was on my side facing the rock formation and he was right behind me, his arm draped over my waist and his breath hitting my neck whenever he exhaled. I smiled sleepily and tugged the blankets back up but realized I was putting weight on my bad side, so I slowly rolled over to face him. The wind was still gusting but the clouds had dispersed somewhat so I could just make out his features in the moonlight. His hat was askew, crunched on one side making it sit crooked on his head. One of his earrings was exposed, resting by his jaw line. My eyes wandered over his face. His laugh lines were still so prominent even in sleep. I reached my fingers up and gently stroked down his temple onto his cheek.

"You're staring." he murmured, his mouth turning into a sleepy grin. I pulled my hand away guiltily as he opened his eyes a crack. I smiled, and bit my lip instead of responding. He chuckled, shut his eyes and then pulled me closer against him. I curled into him, my legs tangling somewhat with his. My hands were pinned up against his chest so I took the opportunity to slide one up onto the side of his neck. I began absentmindedly tracing slow circles with my finger as I tried to fall back asleep. He groaned something unintelligible but I proceeded to slide my hand behind his neck further, tangling my fingers in his hair a bit, then nuzzled my head up closer to press my cold nose against his neck. He was so blissfully warm. I couldn't seem to prevent my lips trailing against his skin as I shifted slightly once more. His hand came up and grabbed my own, stilling my movements.

"You're certainly not making this easy." he said into my ear, his voice low but his accent still lacing his words.

"What?" I whispered, unsure what he was referring to, tilting my head to look at his face. His eyes were fully awake now, glinting in the moonlight, but he just smiled and shook his head slightly before closing his eyes on me once again.

I couldn't help it. I shifted upwards and brought my free hand to his face. I followed his jaw line with my fingers, and then I leaned up and ever so slightly brushed my lips against his. I just wanted to see how they felt against my own, at least once more. His eyes flew open, suddenly filled with heat. I bit my lip worryingly, hoping he wouldn't get up and leave, but then felt his hand reach up and tangle in my hair. He tugged my head back slightly before claiming my mouth with his, kissing me ardently. His other hand slowly travelled down my back and then tugged me even closer, I inhaled sharply then left my lips parted slightly to deepen the kiss. He took advantage and began kissing me more fiercely. I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hat fell off as he leaned into me, forcing me more on my back. His hand found its way underneath my jacket and slid up my side. I broke the kiss and tilted my head up. He kissed down my neck, then back up to find my mouth again. I gently bit his bottom lip then opened my mouth to him. He moaned quietly, pressing down on me.

However, when we stopped to catch our breath, our eyes met, we stared at each other, our expressions flushed and wild, but we both knew it could go no further.

"I've never been kissed like that." I whispered breathlessly, my heart beating in my chest.

Bofur grinned and ran his thumb along my lips. "That's a shame. A lass like you should be kissed like that every single day."

I smiled as we both settled back to try and sleep. I lay awake a long while and I knew he was awake too but we both remained quiet and still. Finally, as I began to surrender to weariness, he slowly raised my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers once more, and then finally we both were able to fall back asleep.

* * *

I jerked awake in shock as someone roughly tore the blanket off, shouting something in dwarvish. I sat up in a panic only to find Thorin holding the blanket, a look of disgust on his face and the others scattered behind him, staring. I had been sleeping with my head on Bofur's shoulder, his arm around me, my hand resting on his chest and I could already feel my face begin to flush. Bofur stirred and sat up as well. His expression dropped when he caught sight of Thorin and the accusing eyes of the rest of the company. Thorin spat something in Khuzdul, tossing our blanket aside. Bofur clambered to his feet, his eyes hard but his hands up defensively, I stood up as well and skirted a few paces away.

"What do you think you are doing?" Thorin asked lividly, taking a step closer and shooting me a glare.

"It's not what it looks like." Bofur explained, his voice surprisingly calm. "The girl was going to freeze."

"I think it's _exactly_ what it looks like." he gestured angrily. "Do you think I've been blind? Do you take us all for fools? She's been swooning over you since day one, though I mistakenly thought you possessed enough self-dignity to ignore it."

Bofur started forward angrily, but I took my chance to speak up. "Listen," I began, inwardly grimacing at how soft and un-authoritative my voice sounded. "Bofur has done nothing-"

Thorin cut me off my raising his hand and interrupting. "_You_. You are not a member of this company and you do not have the right to speak. You are _nothing _to us. You never will be. I thought I had already made that clear. And you'd be absolutely moronic to believe a dwarf would ever think any more of you."

Bofur stepped forwards, saying something in Khuzdul in a rough, loud tone. They spoke heatedly for a few moments, each of them gesturing in anger and irritation. I had never seen Bofur look so serious, nor had I ever heard him speak in his own tongue before. I desperately wished to understand what they were saying, but judging by the expressions of the others, which ranged from shocked to angry to embarrassed, maybe it was best I that didn't know. Then the conversation seemed to take a turn for the worse as their voices increased in volume and intensity. Suddenly they both quieted. Thorin turned around and began to walk away, but after a few paces he seemed to think better of it and stopped. He looked back at Bofur, who hadn't moved, and pointed at him threateningly.

"Your wife would be rolling in her grave to see you end up with someone like _her_!" he spat, gesturing roughly in my direction.

A heavy silence fell upon the group. I felt myself shaking as a cold, dry anger pulsed through my body. Bofur stared at the leader of the company in utter disgust; he then abruptly stepped forward and violently grabbed the front of Thorin's cloak, pulling him close.

"You will not mention my wife again." he said in a deadly serious tone, his face a mere few inches from Thorin's. They stared at each other a moment longer. Questioning. Challenging. And then Bofur roughly released his grip, shoving Thorin back a pace before turning his back on him. Bifur stepped forward and grabbed Bofur's arm, leading him away while murmuring in dwarvish.

Thorin did not move. He clenched and unclenched his fists, I thought for sure he would go after Bofur and put him in his place for showing such defiance. But instead he slowly looked around to see the remaining members of his company gaping at him.

"We're wasting daylight," he said gruffly, maybe more to himself. He then looked around once more and shouted. "Let's move!"

I stood there frozen while the others began to bustle and pick up their belongings. Gloin shook his head disapprovingly at me as he walked past; most of the others avoided looking at me altogether. I clenched my jaw, trying to control the tremors that rankled me to my core. Eventually I tried to regain self-control and then looked around, spotting Bofur rolling up his blanket. I hesitated, unsure what would be most appropriate for me to do. As the others began filing away after Thorin, I decided to cautiously approach. I needed to apologize for this utter hodgepodge of a mess. His back was to me as he stood up with the last of his gear.

"Bofur?" I began in my softest voice. Not sure if he heard me, I tentatively reached my hand forward, wanting to gain his attention by placing it on his shoulder. He spun around as my fingers barely grazed his coat. His eyes were wide and his hands up aggressively.

"I'm sorry-" I said and could already feel the tears begin to gather.

"Don't." he said, cutting me off. He didn't meet my eyes and even began to back away from me. I struggled to keep my composure. "Just don't." he continued, his voice a plea. "Please. I'm sorry. But I can't."

I opened my mouth to try and speak, to make him understand how sorry I was, but he had already turned and started walking away from me. I stood there, stunned, and felt the warm tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I watched the group leave me. No one looked back. Why would they? Like Thorin said, I didn't belong with them.

I was startled as someone gripped my arm and began leading me forward.

"You're not getting left behind." Kili said in a comforting manner. He slid his hand down the rest of my arm and grabbed my own, gripping my fingers tight. It was an odd feeling, being taller then everyone but feeling smaller than them all. I tried to brush away my tears with my other arm without being too obvious about it, then looked down and gave him a hint of a smile.

"I didn't mean for all this to happen." I tried to explain, though I mostly had to whisper as I didn't feel quite in control of my voice. "It's my fault."

"Just give it time. It will all blow over." he said, pulling me a little as we walked to try and catch up with the back of the group.

Apparently it was not to blow over anytime that day. Bofur went out of his way to avoid all contact with me; not even sparing me a passing glance. At supper he squeezed between Bifur and Bombur, as if I needed the point made clearer. I sat down as far away from them as I could and faced in another direction. That evening I lay down nearest to the fire while he placed himself on the outside of the group.

And thus I faced the night, miserable and alone.


	14. Queer Lodgings

Extremely early the next morning we heard a sound that made us all sit straight up out of sleep.

Howling.

It was many leagues off, but even still we packed up in a rush. Gandalf's grim expression was encouragement enough to keep up a hurried pace as we set off. Later in the afternoon we came to the edge of a cliff face. Thorin sent Bilbo to climb up it in order to survey the landscape. Upon his return, Dwalin accosted him without delay.

"How close is the pack?"

"Too close." Bilbo explained. "A couple of leagues, no more, but that is not the worst of it."

"Have the Wargs picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked gruffly.

"Not yet, but they will. We have another problem."

Gandalf cut in, his voice laced with worry. "Did they see you? They saw you!"

Bilbo looked flustered as he denied the accusation The wizard smiled and complimented his skills as a burglar making the group chuckle. Bilbo tried to regain their attention, looking extremely anxious.

"Will you listen- Will you just listen?" he pleaded. "I'm trying to tell you there is _something else_ out there."

I frowned in concern, stepping closer to better hear the hobbit's words. Gandalf turned to look at Bilbo, growing quiet.

"What form did it take?" the wizard asked after a moment. "Like a bear?"

I saw Bilbo hesitate, looking at Gandalf in confusion as he stammered, "Ye...yes. But bigger, much bigger."

It was then that Bofur spoke up. "You knew about this beast?" I looked at him but he ignored my gaze as he awaited a response that never came. "I say we double back." he offered when no one else suggested anything, but Thorin cut his idea down.

"There is a house." Gandalf stated. "It's not far from here, where we might take refuge."

"Whose house? Are they friend or foe?" Thorin demanded.

"Neither." Gandalf replied ominously. "He will help us, or he will kill us."

"What choice do we have?" asked Thorin grimly.

A horribly loud roar split the silence nearby, causing us all to jump in alarm.

"None." Gandalf replied and then ushered us to move.

I focused all my effort into not tripping as we began a relentless pace across uneven terrain. As we raced through a stream, however, I lost my footing. I stumbled forward and bashed my knees against the rocky bottom as I fell. My arms shot out in front of me to halt my momentum, and as they absorbed the impact I felt a sharp, tearing pain in the front of my shoulder. Tears welled in my eyes; meanwhile a few dwarves overtook me. I grimaced in pain, forced myself back up and continued to run on, knowing I could not afford to favour my injuries and slow down.

"This way, quickly!" Gandalf yelled back to us after the bear roared once more.

It was perhaps fortunate we all had lighter loads, or we might not have been able to outrun the beast we could hear crashing through the forest behind us.

"To the house! Run!" Gandalf shouted after we had broke into a clearing. The creature sprung out of the tree line shortly thereafter, quickly gaining on us now that we were all on open terrain.

I briefly saw out of the corner of my eye the large form of Bombur pass me, then watched with detached amusement as he continued up the line, easily outrunning everyone as we approached the gate in the hedge.

Finally we reached the front door of the house. I looked back and gaped for a moment as I saw the massive bear running straight for us.

"Open the door!" Gandalf yelled, ushering us all towards it. Thorin shoved his way to the front and finally the doors pushed open. We all hurried inside but the beast was upon us, trying to force its way in. I staggered back in fear as I lay eyes on the immense snarling snout and heard Bilbo draw his sword beside me. Finally they secured the bolt, the doors slamming resolutely closed. I stared at them, anxious that the beast would simply break them down, but all was quiet.

"What is that?" Ori asked, looking to Gandalf.

"That is our host." Gandalf stated. "His name is Beorn, and he is a skin-changer. Sometimes he's a huge black bear; sometimes he's a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overfond of dwarves."

Dori and Gandalf began bickering over something as I cast my eyes about the hall in wonder, my pain momentarily forgotten while my adrenalin was still running high. It was without a doubt the most comfortable dwelling I had ever stepped foot in, though much too large even for human standards. The air was warm and sweet, smelling of honey, and fresh hay - which layered the floor. The ceiling was high and airy, criss-crossed with supporting wooden beams. Much of the woodwork was beautifully carved. Candles and baskets of fruit and pine nuts adorned many of the surfaces. At one end were tall steps leading up to an immense dining and living area, at the other were stalls occupied by a few long-horned cows, two large horses, a few sheep, and a solitary goat.

"Alright now, get some sleep, all of you." Gandalf instructed sharply. "You'll be safe here tonight... I hope."

I didn't bother to even let my gaze find Bofur, as it was prone to do, and instead wandered to an empty stall nearest to the back and kicked the hay around. It appeared clean, so I made a nest of it and spread out my blanket on top. I removed my cloak and balled it up to use as a pillow. I noticed my shoulder was once again staining crimson through my clothing, confirming my fears that the healing skin had been damaged in my fall. I was loathe to even inspect it further, as I had no skills in healing and I suspected that no help would willingly come from the dwarves. Fortunately it wasn't bleeding very heavily, so I tried to push the worry from my mind, hoping it would mend somewhat overnight. After checking my knees, which I discovered were scraped and bruised but none too worse for wear, I lay down, curled up on my good side, and tried not to feel sorry for myself. Secretly I was hurt that _he_ didn't stop to help me when I fell... none of them did. I stewed over this fact for a while before I was able to let myself drift off.

I awoke in the middle of the night and sighed to myself, wanting nothing more than a few nights of good, solid sleep. I seemed to be prone to waking every few hours, especially with my shoulder feeling worse again and my knees aching steadily. My mouth was also exceedingly dry and I didn't have one of the few canteens on me. I pushed myself up and peeked down the hall. Interestingly, a few candles had been lit, but I could see no signs of movement. I got up and crept past the sleeping forms of the others. I tried to squint around for a water jug as I wandered up to the dining table. After tiptoeing the whole way around it I found nothing but empty vessels.

As it would happen, the door slowly creaked open as I was still standing there wondering what to do. I froze. There was nothing for it. I would be discovered no matter what, so I just stood there nervously as a huge looming figure of a man quietly entered the house. He had a massive chest, great bare arms with knotted muscles, and appeared to have a shaggy beard and mane of hair that trailed down his back. He stopped short when he saw me. I took a tiny step back, raising my hands slightly, trying to show him I was not a threat. His expression was wild and terrifying, his eyes full of suspicion and fear. He strode up the steps towards me, and then looked down at me menacingly. He was much taller than even the tallest of men.

"Please," I whispered, maintaining eye contact but slightly cowering under his gaze. "I mean you no harm."

He studied me, his eyes sharp and untrusting, taking everything in. "Follow." he said finally, turning and heading back outside. I obeyed without question, trusting that if worst came to worst I could scream loud enough to alert the others.

The moon was bright and exposed that night, casting a cool blue light upon the soft grass. He led me back towards a garden, stopping in front of a large wooden bench, but he did not sit down.

"You are lodging in my home tonight," he said, his voice deep and laced with an accent I had not heard before. I nodded, unsure if he was asking me or stating what he already knew. "There are others with you?"

"Yes... a few." I responded, remembering what Gandalf has mentioned about his dislike of dwarves and not wanting to elaborate. He did not respond. I noticed a manacle on his wrist; the chain cut a few links down. I quickly looked away.

"Beorn," I said hesitantly, "We're sorry for intruding without permission... but I wonder if you'll allow us to remain until morning?" I peeked up at him, he looked confused.

"I was not going to make you leave." he stated gruffly after a moment. "It is unusual for a human girl to be travelling in these parts. What is your name?"

I told him, he then looked at me for a long moment before proclaiming: "You're injured."

I opened my mouth to object but he had already stridden off. I watched him go in confusion, and then awkwardly hoisted myself up onto the seat. My feet dangled it was so high off the ground. I sat idly for a few moments until he returned carrying a leather bag and holding a large lantern in front of him.

"When did this happen?" he asked, indicating towards my shoulder and setting the bag and lantern down nearby. Without further preamble or any sense of reserve he slid my shirt down over my shoulder to better see the wound. Strangely he did not make me feel uncomfortable; I felt he was perhaps naive to other race's customs of modesty and therefore did not know to act bashful or ask permission before invading the personal space of another.

"Near a fortnight ago." I told him after quickly counting the days in my head. He grabbed out a vial and a square piece of softened leather, and then held the cloth against my skin underneath while he poured some of the liquid over the lesion; it smelled pleasantly fresh and had a slight cooling affect.

He then paused and shifted my tunic slightly, suddenly noticing the similar inflictions on the back of my shoulder.

"What caused this?" he said in almost a growl. For some reason I didn't want to tell him, but his tone and intense gaze made me divulge the information without much hesitation.

"An orc." I said humbly. "He had a jagged rod of metal in place of an arm... he got me through the back with it."

"Azog the Defiler." Beorn stated slowly, shaking his large shaggy head then fixing me with a hard gaze. "That is most unusual, how did you cross paths with this creature?"

This time I truly did not know how to answer, it was such a long and complicated story. As if he could sense he would get no more out of me after a short pause, he let out a low rumbling sigh and then gestured to my tunic.

"I need to bind the wound. Remove this." he stated bluntly. I was already beginning to develop a habit for following orders of people ministering to my wounds, and so I hastened to comply, however my haste led to discomfort. I grimaced, and he took over with a deftness that I wouldn't have guessed he possessed in such large hands, gripping the hem of my tunic and guiding it gently up over my head.

The cold of the night air caught me off guard as it cut through my undershirt, but Beorn seemed devoted only to his task and continued to work through my silent shivers, daubing on a thick paste that smelled of honey over the marks. He then quickly wrapped beneath my arm and over my shoulder with some kind of luxuriously soft, light fabric and bound it tightly.

As he finished up, he finally spared the rest of my body a brief inspection, noticing the inflictions of my multiple hurts and bruises. With one of his hands he took my good arm and drew it closer to the lantern light to bring the old orc scratches into clearer view. His eyes narrowed once more, but he released my arm and retrieved my tunic.

"Are you hurt elsewhere?" he asked, helping to guide my shirt back down over my bound shoulder.

"Not badly." I replied, knowing my knees were more than capable of healing on their own after the sixth or seventh time I had damaged them this trip. I slid forward and eased myself down to the ground as gracefully as I could.

"And the others, do they need tending as well?" Beorn asked as he gathered up his supplies and the lantern.

I shook my head. "I don't think so. They have their own healer if need be."

Beorn frowned, but said nothing more as he turned to lead me back to the house. Right before we got back to the door, I remembered the reason I had gotten up in the first place and shyly spoke up to ask for a glass of water. We entered quietly into the kitchen, Beorn's heavy footfalls doing little to wake the exhausted troupe of dwarves as he busied himself, setting down the lantern and pouring water into a large wooden cup. I thanked him, but he gruffly gestured for me to wait, and from the kettle by the faltering ashes of a long-dead cooking fire he poured me another glass, this one of warm milk to help me sleep.

After that, he left me sitting alone at the table. I felt like a child drinking the milk, holding the glass with both hands and swinging my legs back and forth beneath me. The simple kindness shown to me was a blessing after recent events, and so I stayed in the moment as long as possible.

* * *

The last flickering, spluttering light of the lantern, as it burned down too low for the wick to sustain it, woke me from a drowse, and rubbing sleep from my eyes I slipped down onto the stone floor. Still half asleep, I descended the tall steps and wove my way through the dwarves, all still in slumber at this late hour.

No, not all asleep. Squinting through the darkness, my vision sharpened and made out a shadowed figure leaning up against one of the houses' wooden pillars. I took a step forward, wondering if it might be Bofur, wondering if I might have some chance for repentance if I could only talk to him. But what to say? I could think of nothing.

The figure was speaking. It was barely above a whisper, words on the verge of comprehension and so quiet that they were no more than riddles in the dark. Another step closer. It was Bilbo Baggins. He was hunched over looking at something he seemed to be holding in his hand. I approached him.

"Bilbo?" I whispered as quietly as I could.

As quick as a flash he turned to face me, causing me to flinch in surprise. I thought I saw a flicker of gold in his hand before he made a small fist. His expression was twisted and his eyes unfamiliar.

"It's nothing!" he snarled. His voice and manner startled me. I took a step back, my eyes wide.

He then blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. When he looked back to me he appeared himself again, slightly tired, he yawned then twitched his nose.

"Should get some sleep." he commented lightly with a stretch. He nodded then made a cross between a wave and a dismissal with his hand as he moved to lie down. I nodded back, smiling nervously before turning and quickly walking back to my stall.

Despite the effects of the warm milk threatening to submit me to my weariness, it took me a long while to fall asleep as I pondered Bilbo's unusual and eerie behaviour. Something about it disturbed me, the aggression, the glint of gold. Something I couldn't put my finger on.

Something not quite right...


	15. Not Over Fond of Dwarves

Despite not sleeping through most of the night, I felt pleasantly refreshed upon waking. I noticed everyone was crowded around the back door, arguing in hushed voices, so I wandered over to figure out why. As I approached, Gandalf took charge, and I caught the last few words of what he was saying.

"...torn to shreds." He spotted me shortly thereafter and acknowledged me with a slight nod.

"Ah, now that we're all here, I think we had best begin."

Gandalf told Bilbo and I to accompany him first. As I stepped in amidst the throng dwarves, I asked the hobbit in a hushed voice "Bilbo, what was that about being torn to shreds?"

He frowned, then let out a nervous chuckle and said "Our host... just a minute." He spoke up to voice his own concerns, turning to the wizard as he did so. "I-is this a good idea?"

Gandalf immediately replied with a simple 'yes' before going on to outline the rest of his plan.

I didn't mention the fact that I had already met our host, and so without hesitation I proceeded to pick my way towards the door. Many of the dwarves seemed on edge, and so to pass them courageously and without fear drew more than a few second glances. I felt a selfish pride in the raised eyebrow of Thorin Oakenshield. I saw the surprise in the slightest drop of Dwalin's jaw, the pause of Bombur's eating, the slow shake of Gloin's head, and the wobble of hat flaps in the corner of my eye as Bofur turned to watch me follow the wizard outside.

I waited on the back landing and could see Beorn was busy cutting wood. As I watched him, Gandalf poked his head back in to stress the last part of his plan to the dwarves once more. "Remember, wait for the signal."

The three of us then descended and walked the same path I walked the night before at Beorn's behest. Familiarity with both the setting and our host comforted me, but had no such effect on Gandalf, as Bilbo indelicately pointed out.

"You're nervous..." He accused as he walked between us, "...and you're not." he observed, his attention turning from Gandalf to myself.

I quickly tried to sort my thoughts enough to briefly explain, but in doing so I became distracted enough to catch my toe on an exposed root and I faltered slightly in my stride. So much for the courageous entrance. Gandalf spoke up to cover for himself, in any case, drawing the attention away from me. We stopped a moment later, barely out of swinging distance of the massive axe-wielding skin changer.

"Morning!" Gandalf shouted cheerily, putting on his most charming smile only to have it seemingly ignored completely while Beorn took another swing. I suspected this might be another of our host's strange mannerisms that I was introduced to last night... or perhaps he was just being surly. The smile faded from Gandalf's face, and the next swing of the axe flew particularly wide causing him to lean back in alarm.

Bilbo, oh so casual in his movements, positioned himself directly behind the wizard and completely out of Beorn's view. I shot him a look of amused reproach and he held out his hands, mouthing 'what?' as if to ask what else he was supposed to do in the presence of someone over twice his size with a hatred of dwarves - to which hobbits could be remotely compared. I tilted my head thoughtfully and then nodded, having to admit he had a good point.

"Good morning!" Gandalf repeated, causing Beorn to finally pause and let out a frustrated sigh at the interruption while straightening up to full height.

"Who are you?" he growled.

Gandalf replied, and for what I imagined was one of the only times in the wizard's lifetime, however long that might be, someone had not heard of him. I looked between the two, and for the first time on our journey Gandalf seemed less intimidating than someone. Gandalf appeared to falter for a moment before attempting to explain once more. He then went on to try and introduce me, but Beorn cut him off.

"What do you want?"

Gandalf quickly voiced thanks for the hospitality, turning to gesture back towards the house and exposing Bilbo's head peeking out between the pair of us. Realizing he was spotted, I made room for him between us while Gandalf introduced him. I felt truly sorry for him as I noted the look of terror on his face, especially when he was mistaken for a dwarf.

Gandalf managed to convince Beorn otherwise, and then went on to describe our situation leading up to our arrival at his home. As he did, the giant man's icy gaze drifted over to me. I could tell he was trying to put our two stories together, judging both accounts with equal scrutiny.

"What did you go near goblins," The skin changer asked, looking to Gandalf, "...and orcs for?" He looked back to me, and Gandalf clued in for the first time that I might have met our host prior to now.

"Stupid thing to do." Beorn added reproachfully.

"You are absolutely right." Gandalf agreed, gesturing with his hand to stress the fact, however, any further conversation was interrupted when noise from the landing drew our attention back to the house. Beorn hefted his axe once more, and Bilbo and I exchanged looks of combined worry and disbelief at the ill-timed entry of Balin and Dwalin. I looked at them in surprise and annoyance as they nervously shuffled under the violent gaze of the skin changer.

"I must confess that, uh, several of our group are in fact... dwarves." Gandalf stammered.

"Do you call two _several_?" Beorn asked angrily.

Gandalf attempted to clarify, doing a great deal of muttering. "There could be more than two." he finally admitted, beginning to count on his fingers, and in doing so Bofur sent out two more dwarves, going off of a signal that I expected only his particularly small dwarf-sized brain could see.

It was clear Beorn was becoming extremely agitated. I narrowed my eyes, glaring at the window while more and more dwarves poured out and Gandalf dug himself into a deeper and deeper hole. My hands balled up in frustration, until finally at one point I flattened them out and made what I was sure was a clear sign to Bofur to stop or I would do something very unpleasant to him. However, he took that to mean 'bring everyone else out' and he promptly did just that. Bofur stood there, smiling so proudly that I had to look away to keep myself from rushing to throttle him senseless.

"Is that it?" Beorn asked, seeming to come to grasps with the fact that he was harbouring over a dozen dwarves. "Are there any more?"

Thorin then emerged, and a look of recognition eased onto the features of our host.

"Go back inside, wizard." Beorn ordered. "Take the dwarves with you, and bring wood. Get a fire going. You will tell me everything."

I turned to go with them, but Beorn caught my eye as the rest began to shuffle back inside.

"Come, I would speak with you once more. Help me gather the eggs." He leaned his axe up against the chopping block and then made for the chicken coop without another word, and just like the night before I followed without question.

* * *

"You left out much last night." Beorn began as he handed me a basket.

"I did not want to be the bearer of bad news." I said with a grin as we began collecting the large brown eggs hidden amidst nests of hay. "I was nervous to tell you about them." I added more seriously.

"Why are you travelling with these _dwarves_?" he asked after a moment's thought.

I told him of my home in Esgaroth and tried to pass off my reluctance to travel alone as the main reason for staying amidst their company.

"Do you trust them?" Beorn asked, fixing me with a hard stare when I was finished speaking.

"Yes." I said without thinking.

"You should not." he replied gruffly. "They are dangerous. They care not for other races. How much do you truly know of their kind besides fairy stories?"

I looked away, biting my lip and swallowing the words of defence I wanted to say, but part of me feared he was right.

"My people were first to settle in the mountains. When Durin and his kin awoke from their slumber, they were a skilled and hardy folk, but unwise to the ways of the world as it was. We helped them. Then the orcs came and my people were enslaved. The dwarves did not help us. That is their true nature."

His expression had turned fierce and self-consciously his hand grasped at the metal shackle on his wrist. Seeing my expression though, he released it.

"You care for them." he stated quietly. "That is unwise." He did not elaborate further but nodded at my now full basket and gestured me to follow him once more.

He led me out and further into the yard. I became aware of a growing buzzing noise and noticed we were making for the bee hives. I hesitated when we got near.

"Do not fear them." Beorn added casually, walking directly up to the massive hives as the giant bees lazily droned by. I cautiously stepped up beside him and watched with fascination as he harvested two large combs dripping with honey and placed them in the baskets beside the eggs. He then turned to look down at me.

"The path of Thorin Oakenshield grows dangerous," he began. "It is no longer safe to travel among them. They will not protect you."

I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off.

"You can stay. Until they are gone from these parts. Then I would show you a safer path towards your homeland."

I blinked up at the large beast of a man, stunned by his offer, then thanked him as sincerely as I could, stating I would think about it. He said no more as we walked back to the house.

During breakfast Beorn asked of Azog, after which Bilbo had the courage to enquire about the skin-changers. I listened on in silence, feeling my heart grow heavy upon hearing that he was the last.

"You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?" Beorn asked as he refilled mugs with cold milk.

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes." Gandalf responded. He explained their route on the Elven Road through the forest.

"The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin." Beorn told us. "They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not... These lands are crawling with orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive."

I could feel the tension in the room grow thick.

"I don't like dwarves." Beorn said. "They do not care for their companions." he glanced pointedly at me and I noticed a few of them squirm uncomfortably before I glanced down in embarrassment.

"They're greedy and blind," Beorn continued, looking at Thorin intently, "blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own."

Beorn paused, staring down at the dwarf-lord.

"But orcs I hate more." he said finally. "What do you need?"

* * *

After breakfast Beorn busied himself in packing fresh supplies for the company, and the dwarves had an opportunity to explore the property until Beorn was ready to have them saddle the ponies. I wandered outside with many of them, enjoying the morning sun with a full belly.

Like in Rivendell, I once again had the rare opportunity of feeling like I had absolutely nothing to do. My days in Bree had been filled with cleaning up after the night before and preparing for the next. The grand majority of my time since departing the Inn was spent travelling, riding, fighting or - and it felt crazy to even acknowledge it - flying, along with the typical duties of making and breaking camp. Now, the warmth of the sun in this sweet smelling paradise made it easy to shake the feeling of anxiety I got without a job to keep me busy.

On a whim, I unfastened my boots and eased my bare feet onto the lush grass, flexing my toes luxuriously at the feeling. My path ambled along the edge of the lawn, following the wall of hedges in a circuit back to my starting point. Beneath sprawling branches I felt protected from the world in a way I had not felt since a child. What would it be like to stay in such a place for a while? Would my childhood home still be like this?

On the topic of dwarves and plights, I spotted Bofur making his way towards the back door of the house. His attention was wholly fixed on his pipe, and he seemed bound and determined not to take any notice of me. I increased my pace, aiming to cut him off, and managed to intercept him at the foot of the stairs onto the landing.

Bofur, however, simply shouldered past and started up the steps without even a glance towards me. This fuelled the anger that had been sitting heavy in my gut. I was at the end of my tolerance.

"You did a right job of it earlier you know." I said snidely.

Bofur seemed startled to hear me address him. He stopped and hesitated before turning around to face me, for once being able to look down at me from his vantage point on the third step.

"What?" he asked, appearing genuinely confused, which irritated me even more.

"Watching for the signal!" I huffed. "You nearly ruined everything; Beorn was about ready to tear us all to shreds."

I knew this was not the case, but I wanted to get a rise out of him.

"What?" Bofur repeated, sounding slightly offended. "Gandalf _was_ signalling, and I sent them out in pairs just like he told us."

"He wasn't signalling at all yet!" I scorned.

"Yes. He was." Bofur insisted.

I shook my head and Bofur moved to continue on his way inside, but I didn't want to stop talking. I didn't want him to shut me out again; and some twisted part of me preferred fighting to being ignored altogether.

"He asked me to stay you know." I blurted out before he could start walking off. "Beorn."

He jerked to a halt and turned towards me once more, but he refused to meet my eyes.

"And what did you say?" he asked quietly.

"I haven't decided." I replied hotly. I knew how I wanted this conversation to end. I did not want to be parted from the company, but he needed to forgive me, and, if he had feelings for me at all, I wanted to know.

"But maybe I should stay." I added slowly, trying to bait him. "Until the road is safe again. Thorin would certainly be glad to be rid of me."

I expected him to object, to assure me to stay with them and then everything could go back to the way it was... but Bofur simply nodded, and my plan was foiled.

"Aye." he said softly. "We've led you into too much peril already."

I felt my shoulders tense and my hackles rise, especially when he turned to leave.

"_Is that it then_?" I half-shouted, my voice strained with emotion. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

Bofur finally met me gaze and looked at me helplessly. He shrugged slightly. "What would you have me say?" he asked gently.

I faltered for a moment, trying to reel in my frustration and growing sadness. It must have all been true, what Thorin had said. It was below his dignity to even consider me... I would be a disgrace to him if he did.

"Just tell me." I said, slowly and flatly." If I were a dwarf, instead of a human, would things be different?"

His eyes widened but then he shook his head sadly. "That has nothing to do with it." he said quietly.

"That has _everything_ to do with it!" I shouted, my voice cracking at the end with a sob.

He suddenly stepped down towards me, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, but the sharp motion of it instinctively made me flinch away from him.

But nothing happened and I opened my eyes to see him standing in front of me, his arms at his sides and his expression somewhere between horror and sorrow.

"I'm sorry." I whispered quickly, horrified at myself. It was a purely physical reaction. After being around rough men the past few years I subconsciously expected a quick cuff for my insolence. But I knew better with Bofur, he was not the hitting kind.

"You know I would never - could never-" he began, his voice breaking up. Finally his eyes met mine and they were so full of heartbreaking anguish that I had to look away. He reached up his hand and slowly brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting back tears.

"I would _never_ hurt you." Bofur said quietly as he withdrew his touch. He looked at me a moment longer then shook his head slightly and made his way inside, the door closing softly behind him.

I watched him go and thought to myself, _but you already have._

* * *

"I'd like to stay."

I had found Beorn in a stable out back organizing saddles and riding gear.

Beorn nodded. "This is good news." he said. "You should wait inside the gate while I take them to their ponies."

I walked with him back to the house, trying to determine if I had just made the right choice. I felt slightly panicked, but the thought of forcing my presence where it clearly was not wanted was just as unsettling. I helped to set the table for a light lunch and tried not to feel nostalgic as I squeezed amidst the dwarves as usual and listened to them gruffly speak of the travel plans as we ate. I hadn't voiced my decision to stay behind to any of them; Bofur was the only one that knew it was even an option. I couldn't stop my eyes from settling on him from time to time but felt my chest tighten every time I did so. At one point his eyes locked onto mine. I tried to convey through that simple look my confusion, regret, devotion, heartbreak... It seemed both an eternity and a mere second later when one of us looked away; I don't remember who it was. The rest of my lunch was tasteless in my mouth but I ate mechanically, my eyes fixed on my plate.

After lunch I watched with detached interest as Beorn passed out new rations and some light supplies to the dwarves and Gandalf. I planned to pull the wizard aside to let him know of Beorn's offer, but was waiting for an opportunity to do so without so many dwarves close by. I didn't want to make a scene. The company made ready to leave and Beorn headed outside to begin to lead them to the stables in order to pick up the saddles.

I waited until most of them were out the door before I cleared my throat and moved to cut Gandalf off in order to speak with him privately. However, before I could say anything Bombur stepped in my way, looking up at me with an odd doleful expression. I frowned as I saw Gandalf head out the door with the others. I looked back to Bombur, who hadn't moved and was blocking my path quite effectively. After a few awkward moments of silence and seeing no easy way to sidle past him, I cleared my throat.

"Um, can I help you with anything?" I asked as gently as I could in my irritated state. He looked up at me, his eyes wide, and then quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Don't leave." he said quietly. I felt my jaw actually drop. I had never heard Bombur speak before, to anyone.

I was too stunned to stammer anything more than "what?"

He looked around the room self-consciously then up at me again, his expression more urgent. "Don't leave us now... He needs you."

He said nothing more but turned and followed his comrades outside, leaving me staring at the door, my mind reeling.

I rushed outside after I spent a few moments sorting my thoughts and then jogged up to the front of the group to catch up with Beorn.

"I need to go." I exclaimed, slightly out of breath. "I'm sorry. I'd like to stay, I really would, but I must leave with them."

Beorn peered down at me and made a gruff noise in acknowledgement, he then passed me a bag he had been carrying. I looked at him inquisitively then unfastened the top to see it was full of the same provisions he had prepared for each of the dwarves.

"You knew I'd be going?" I asked him curiously as I closed then shouldered the bag.

"I suspected so." he responded, "I was hoping to be wrong."

When we reached the stables, Beorn instructed each of the dwarves to grab a saddle and bridle. He picked up a larger one, telling me it was for the horse I would be riding, and directed Gandalf to a horse saddle as well.

He led us back outside and into the paddock where the animals were waiting.

I was surprised when Beorn led me to a large black draft horse. I looked around to see the dwarves saddling their piebald ponies, but Gandalf was next to a work horse that matched my own so I presumed Beorn did not own anything more suitable for riding.

Beorn saddled the horse for me and I approached it with growing anticipation. It would be good to ride again, even though I felt a pang of sorrow for my first loyal mount. If I stayed, I could work with the horses here. Perhaps Beorn would have even parted with one, if I were taking a safer route. I reached up to stroke along the large animal's neck, looking into its eyes, but there I saw only the same wildness that was held in Beorn's. There would be no keeping this creature. It would bear us to our destination, and then return to the freedom and safety it knew.

Beorn then placed his hands under my arms and easily lifted me up onto the tall beast as if I weighed nothing at all. With my new height advantage on horseback I was able to look Beorn level in the eyes.

"Thank you." I said weightily. He had shown me much kindness and I had no way to repay him save for my gratitude. I leaned as far over as I could in the saddle and wrapped an arm around his neck, squeezing him as best I could with a half hug. He placed a large hand on my back, perhaps more to steady me than a return gesture, regardless, I pressed a rough kiss against his cheek before I released him and straightened up, adjusting myself to the saddle once more.

As Beorn went to check on the others I became aware of Bofur staring at me, his features turned down in a slight frown. Instead of scowling back, which I instantly felt like doing, I smiled as brightly as I could, deftly turning my horse somewhat to face him better. I felt graceful on horseback, and slightly empowered on this large draft horse. After a moment I thought I saw the hint of a smirk and the twinkle of an eye before the group was called to motion and he turned his pony to follow.

We wasted no time in leaving the paddock once ready, led by Beorn who with great strides kept an easy pace with the cantering horses. I was quick to remember how rough travel on horseback could be, and longed to encourage my horse forward into a more comfortable gait, but held back knowing that keeping them fresh would be our only chance of survival if a warg pack caught up.

We stopped in a shelter of trees where Beorn was to leave us. Gandalf dismounted and went to speak privately with the skin-changer, and some of the others also jumped down to check and re-adjust their saddles once more. After a few minutes Thorin became impatient and ordered everyone to get ready, calling out to Gandalf to end his conversation.

Beorn then approached my horse and steadied it with a hand on its neck, grabbing the reins to keep us in place for a moment.

"Look after yourself, and those you care about." he said to me gravely. "I fear there are no safe paths left in the world... You are always welcome here."

I opened my mouth to thank him once more - for everything - but the harsh screaming of a murder of crows being disturbed in the distance caused him to drop the reigns, holding his hand up to halt me from speaking. He looked past me to Gandalf, then backed away from my horse.

"Go now, while you have the light."

I gripped my reigns tight and nudged my horse, turning it about just as a howl announced the cause of the birds' displeasure.

* * *

We rode hard across the rolling landscape, the horses hardly needing encouragement, and reached the outskirts of forest within four days time while the sun was still high. Gandalf dismounted and approached an ancient archway hidden just beyond the treeline.

"Here lies our path through Mirkwood." he called back. His attention then seemed to focus on something behind us and I turned in my saddle to see a large bear watching from a distant ridge.

"Set the ponies loose." Gandalf instructed. "Let them return to their master."

We all dismounted and began removing our supplies from the animals while Gandalf explored the path entrance. I gave my horse a last pat and turned him loose with the ponies.

"Not my horse! I need it." Gandalf suddenly shouted, emerging with haste from the shadows of the forest.

"You're not leaving us?" Bilbo asked.

"I would not do this unless I had to." Gandalf replied, looking at all of us solemnly. He spoke a few soft words with the hobbit and then walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"It is no light task to gain the respect of Beorn." he said quietly. "Yet you managed it in the span of a day. He urged me to look after you, yet I did not expect to be called away so soon." He looked down at me thoughtfully. "Be wary!" he continued after a moment. "This forest will test you more than the others. Humans are more susceptible to the magics of the world." I nodded and he began to step away, but then suddenly stalled, seeming to remember something. "Oh," he added, chewing on his words a bit then leaning down slightly to keep his voice low. "It is no bad thing to develop bonds between races. These are honourable dwarves, stubborn as they are. It is not unheard of for their loyalty to extend beyond their kin..."

He patted me on the shoulder once more as I felt my cheeks grow warm. He then addressed Thorin. "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me."

Gandalf started towards his horse. "This is not the Greenwood of old." he explained to the group. "The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray." He adjusted his saddle then mounted up. A light rain began to fall despite rays of sun shining through breaks in the cloud. "You must stay on the path," he cautioned, "do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again."

He then wheeled his horse around and urged it into a gallop, but he called over his shoulder once more as he rode away, "No matter what may come, stay on the path!"

A silence settled on the group as we all looked to the forest, feeling alone and somewhat vulnerable without the wizard's guidance. There was a large moment of trepidation before Thorin finally broke the stillness and started forward into the trees. "Come on. We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's Day."

I watched the dwarves step onto the path then I took a deep breath of crisp air before I followed them into the darkness.

I thought I was prepared for what lie ahead.

I was wrong.


	16. It Stings

We walked in single file into the forest of Mirkwood and soon the light from our entrance was little more than a bright, small hole far behind, then it disappeared altogether as we rounded a bend and the muted gloom became whole.

The path, which was most overgrown and difficult to see, consisted of crumbling stepping stones pressed deep into the earth, all but invisible under the soft, rotten blanket of leaves. It wove in and out among the trunks in a most infuriating manner.

Yet at first it was not so bad. We were still light-hearted from our rest at Beorn's, well-fed and watered with the comfort of fresh supplies on our backs. Occasionally a bright beam of sun filtered through the tangled mess of branches and lit our way for a few moments. We were glad for this, a sweet reminder of the bright, clear world beyond the sick and shaded woodland. I was almost disappointed; Gandalf's warnings about the magic of the forest had made me expect something more, well, _magical _to happen within my first few steps under the trees. Yet I did not see, or suffer, anything truly supernatural, save the usual ominous feelings of creeping through an unknown, shadowy forest.

The going was slow as Dwalin and Thorin at the front painstakingly kept track of the path, stopping every few paces in order kick back the leaves to ensure the marking stones were still underfoot. Eventually Kili lagged behind to whisper to me, claiming he was growing bored.

"So have you talked to him?" he asked softly, pointing to his chin towards the front of the group where I could just make out the hat of the dwarf to which he was referring.

I sighed and shrugged. "I've tried to." I said with a grimace. "But he doesn't seem interested in talking to me... he hardly seems to even _look_ at me now."

"Ah well, just keep bugging him. I'm sure he'll come around." Kili replied lightly, despite his frown.

"Will he?" I asked sceptically. "I feel I'm just wasting my time and making a fool out of myself." I threw up my hands slightly in frustration at the inquisitive glance he shot me. "I mean, first off, is it even _possible _for a dwarf to consider a human remotely attractive?"

I regretted the question as soon as it left my mouth and felt myself grow warm, especially when Kili seemed to seriously contemplate this while looking me up and down in a most improper manner. Luckily it was dark enough to hide the blush that was surely spread across my face.

"It's possible." he said finally with a cheeky grin. "I mean, sure, you're too tall and bald and slim for most dwarf's tastes... But if you can get past all that..." He tilted his head from side to side thoughtfully, smirking all the while.

"Gee thanks." I retorted tartly, shoving him a bit as we walked but smiling despite myself.

* * *

As we continued deeper into the forest the air became warm and thick and heavy in my chest. It soon felt as if I could not quite take a full and proper breath, and this made me feel weary and very cross. The silence also began to press in all around us and became so deep that even our soft footfalls seemed to draw the attention of the entire forest, the trees appearing to bear down on us with watchful animosity.

We did not stop for supper that day as the light, what little there was beneath the trees, began to fade. The world all about us had changed from dancing patterns of brightness filtering through the leaves, to a perpetual twilight, making the passage of time during the day little more than a best guess. The 'road' seemed to be made with the sole purpose of loosing those that followed it, and I couldn't help but wonder how dangerous the alternative routes were if this was what Gandalf considered safe.

My hair snagged on an outreaching branch and pulled free of its tie. I tried to look for it, but the ground was too shadowed and the dwarves behind me impatient, bustling me forward to keep up with the line.

Hours slipped by and after what seemed an age of careful silence the dwarves seemed to grow restless and began complaining.

"Air... I need air." Bofur lamented from somewhere behind me.

"My head, it's swimming!" _Óin added loudly and much closer. I cringed at the sudden noise, having been in an almost sleep-like trance while walking. _

Fili, just ahead of me, looked back over his shoulder while holding back a low hanging vine that stooped down into my way. I thanked him as I passed. "We should have made for the Old Forest Road." he remarked to Kili, whom he also held the vine for, but not quite long enough resulting in the vine brushing against the back of Kili's head.

Kili swatted at it in frustration, then glared half at his brother, half at the forest in general as he cursed under his breath. "This elven _path_ is as ill-natured as its makers."

Dwalin grumbled back at the pair, overhearing their conversation from up ahead in one of the worryingly more common pauses to find our path. "What else can you expect from a people who skip and dance their way through life? The effeminate elven tart who built this likely thought it was all in good fun."

Kili leaned closer to Fili and I, and nodded in Dwalin's direction. "He's just jealous that they're better skippers and dancers than he is."

From the look on Dwalin's face, he heard the comment. The warrior's massive fists bulged and his body trembled with pent up aggression. I silently wondered if he might even explode if he didn't get to punch something at least once a day.

"You little..." he spat.

"Dwalin, come on!" Thorin shouted.

Kili was likely only spared from a good thrashing by the discovery of the path once more. Dwalin gave one last scathing look at the three of us before turning to follow.

* * *

"We found the bridge!" Kili yelled as we came up to the edge of the water.

I had lost track of the number of days we had spent meandering through the eternal dusk of Mirkwood. We had made camp several times, yet I was beginning to suspect that our days were stretching into each other, and nights were being missed. The weariness in my body suggested I was sorely lacking in sleep.

I took in the scene as I scrambled forward out of the trees. I saw the path leading up to a bridge. I saw two _parts_ of a whole bridge. In the middle though, decidedly the most important part, there was in fact no bridge at all. I couldn't help but ask Fili "Are there better bridges than this on the Old Forest Road?"

"Er...ah...no." He admitted, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head in what I took to be an almost embarrassed gesture. "At one time maybe, but now, no."

Kili spoke up with what little defence he could for his brother.

"I hear there's a boat."

"A boat would go a long way towards helping us here..." I observed, making my way up to the bank of the wide, slow flowing body of water. The stream, black as ink, spread out in front of us, still as glass. Beorn had warned not to drink from, or even touch, the dark waters.

By that time, the rest of the group had caught up. Bilbo and Bofur stepped past us to look over the edge of the crumbling structure.

"We could try to swim it." Bofur suggested most unhelpfully, leaning forward on his mattock as he gazed down at the stream.

"Didn't you hear what Gandalf said?" Thorin rebuked. "A dark magic lies upon this forest. The waters of this stream are enchanted."

"Doesn't look very enchanting to me." Bofur replied sceptically. I couldn't help but grin at him, but he was too busy staring at the water to notice.

Thorin urged the group to think of another way to cross. Kili wandered over to the gnarled trees that grew up from the banks and grabbed hold of a large vine. "These look strong enough." he said and moved to begin climbing them, but his uncle ordered him back.

"We send the lightest first." Thorin said, looking quickly between Bilbo and myself. He then nodded at the hobbit.

I felt a little insulted, but also relieved, though I had sympathy for Bilbo as he was forced to strike out over the water, clinging to the vines and branches. My sympathy was short lived, however, as whether due to the hobbit's apparent success, or some judgement impaired by the magic of the forest, Thorin did not even give Bilbo time to reach the far shore before urging the dwarves en-mass out onto the vegetation above the stagnant waters. I hesitated, watching with combined shock and horror as Bilbo nearly fell in. As each dwarf ventured out over the river though, they seemed emboldened, to the point where the forerunners were leaping like squirrels from vine to vine.

I hurried after them, urged along by the remaining few on my side of the river - a combination of those smart enough to wait to see the outcome of Bilbo's attempt, and those who seemed frightened of the water in general. As I crept along one of the sturdier of the vines, I heard a splash up ahead.

Bofur shouted out, snapping my attention forwards to watch as he, and a few of the others, rushed to the far shore and began to drag Bombur, the cause of the splash, free from the stream.

"No!" I whispered frantically, but before I could hasten to join the rescue I heard a gasp from alongside me. Ori, caught up in the moment, missed his grip and fell forward, directly past me. I lunged, catching the back of his cloak tight in my grasp while my other hand anchored me in place.

We both halted and I screamed through clenched teeth at the strain of trying to support both our weights, feeling my healing shoulder protest such a strenuous movement. For such a slight dwarf he seemed as heavy as an ox. My body was leaning out diagonally, the young dwarf's almost completely parallel to the water below. I could see his reflection in the water, desperate and afraid as one who truly believed in the dark magics this forest could hold.

Dori came to our rescue.

Freeing a length of vine, he threw it over an overhanging branch and grabbed both ends, which he used to sturdy himself while he leaned in low to grab Ori and relieve me of his weight. From there he was, in turn, hauled in by Nori, while I managed to right myself, now freed of the burden. I left the brothers to sort themselves out and made landfall a short distance away from the commotion being caused by the rescue of Bombur.

I approached, calling out to Bofur as I did.

"Is he alive?!"

No response from the dwarf, or any of the others for that matter as they hustled about. I tried again.

"Bofur! Is he alive?"

Bofur did not even turn to look at me, but responded curtly.

"Yes he's alive! Now go make yourself useful, help the others to shore."

With that he squared his shoulders away from me, and I tried to busy myself with the task he had delegated to me, all the more heartbroken and unable to process why my genuine concern had been met with such hostility.

_He must still be furious with me_, I thought gloomily as I lent a steady hand to Nori, and from there my thoughts flowed as dark as the depths of the stream.

We set out shortly thereafter at Thorin's behest. The growing urgency of their timeline was wearing on them, especially with the burden of Bombur adding to frustrations. I was not asked to help carry the stretcher, and so I followed close to the front, eager to get to the forest's end and once again feeling unwelcome as the dwarves set to their task. With growing urgency of my own, I followed Thorin and his pathfinders, and hoped that soon I could be free of this forest, and free from these stubborn, reckless, paranoid, grudge-holding dwarves.

* * *

At some point along the way we became well and truly lost.

The road became a path, and the path became a track, and we lost track of the track. And Bombur woke up. And the trees began to move again, and there were lights beyond them, and someone started singing at one point, and we went towards the lights, but the trees kept moving.

I made friends with a blue butterfly. No one else in the company was my friend.

... Except Kili and Fili.

... And Dori, Nori and Ori seemed very pleased to have me along now.

But the one dwarf who mattered didn't seem to pay any attention to me at all.

In fact, there seemed to be a whole lot of not paying attention going on, if loosing the path - the ONE thing we were told NOT to do - was any indication. In any case, we ambled on and on and on, and our supplies steadily dwindled, though I don't remember ever stopping to eat.

There were also spider webs. Spider webs everywhere. I started feeling them against my cheek and each time I gasped loudly, causing the dwarves around me to jump in alarm and stop as I madly tried to brush them off. Yet I kept feeling them. They were all around me, tickling my face, making me panic. In a moment of clarity I realized it was only my hair. I wondered why I had felt so alarmed. Soon however, the strands stopped being wispy like webs and instead began to cling to my face and neck as the forest grew, if possible, even more stifling and I began to sweat. I tucked them behind my ears in annoyance only to have them fall forward once more after just a few steps.

Dizziness clouded my vision and I shook my head in attempts to clear it, trying to keep my thoughts focused on following the dwarf ahead of me. Fili. I studied his golden hair for a long while. _It's lovelier then most girls'._ I chuckled at the thought, and then remembered my own hair. It was sticky. I felt sick. I needed to cut it off. That's it! That would make me feel better. It would help me focus... I needed to focus... Gandalf warned me... Focus... My thoughts trailed off as I saw a slim, rare sliver of sunlight that managed to pass the seemingly impenetrable canopy and illuminate a small patch of the forest floor in golden light. Gold... Like Fili's hair... Hair...

"Fili. Lend me a knife." I said loudly, causing several of the dwarves to stop yet again. Fili looked back at me, his expression somewhat dazed so I held out my hand. "Knife... Now... Hurry."

He slowly grabbed one from a sheath inside his coat and handed it to me. Some of the others continued to stumble along. I reached behind my neck and grabbed my hair, pulling it all over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Fili asked quietly, squinting at me as he did so.

I grinned as I took my long hair in a firm grip with one hand and lifted the knife with the other. I was ready to make the cut and was just about to slice across it when Kili stepped up behind me and stayed my hand.

"Don't" Kili said firmly, prying the weapon from my fingers. He then looked to his brother. "Why did you give her a knife?" he asked him.

Fili hesitated, then shrugged. "Ah, well it seemed like a good idea at the time." he replied. "I wasn't thinking."

"Give it back... I need to cut if off... I'm sick." I pleaded, trying to make them understand.

Kili handed the knife to his brother. "Tell them to wait." he said, and then looked back to me. I heard Fili call to the group to stop. "Sit." Kili ordered, pushing my shoulders until I obliged and dropped to the ground. He stepped behind me then gathered up my hair, pulling it all to the back. He beckoned Fili to help, and I felt my hair being parted and tugged on from all angles as they braided it back, away from my face. Finally they were done and Kili pulled me to my feet. I reached up and felt a few elaborate plaits leading into one larger braid that hung down my back, secured with a metal clasp. I smiled in thanks and we were able to continue. I felt slightly better, for a few minutes, or hours, it was hard to tell, but eventually the forest's magic began to impact me once more.

I became increasingly paranoid that we were being watched. The lights I saw twinkling amidst the trees earlier had turned into eyes. Small eyes. Big eyes. Peering out through the dark at us for only a second before they blinked into disappearance. I kept almost tripping, as I failed to watch where I was putting my feet but instead stared intently between the trees, trying to see to what the eyes belonged. I became frightened of them. They were watching me. They were going to come for me. The others didn't notice. The eyes were only for me. They were getting closer. I scrambled forward and grabbed onto a dwarf. It was Gloin. He eyed me sternly and tugged out of my grasp, and I apologized, my embarrassment chasing away the memory of what I had been scared of in the first place.

We stumbled to a halt. The trees were still moving. Or was it my head spinning? I squeezed my eyes shut and when I opened them the forest had stopped waving about, but now the ground was uneven. I teetered on the edge of falling with each step I took, until I finally found a still spot where I stood quite motionless for a few moments, as even tilting my head slightly seemed to bring on a wave of dizziness.

I looked at my comrades and felt the urge to prove I knew who they were. I belonged with them after all, despite their unfriendly opinions. I _knew _them. I began rattling off each of their names in my head, I went through them all, and then I did it again. My thinking unknowingly turned into muttering as I listed them off over and over, feeling gleeful that I did it correctly every time. I _knew_ them after all.

"What hour is it?" Thorin shouted suddenly to no one in particular.

"...bofur-bombur-bifur-kili-fili-gloin-Óin..."

" I don't know." Dwalin muttered loudly. "I don't even know what day it is!"

"...ori-dori-nori." I paused in thought then stated: "It must be Dwalin's Day... balin-dwalin-thorin..."

Dori picked up something off the ground. "Look, a tobacco pouch." he said ominously. "There's dwarves in these woods."

"fili-kili-dori-nori-tori-ori-bifur-baffer-gaffer..."

" Dwarves from the Blue Mountains no less." Bofur explained. "This is exactly the same as mine..."

"...bofurbofurbofurbofurbofur..." I mumbled softly. I was stuck in a loop, my eyes drawn to the dwarf who had just spoken who was now spinning slowly in a circle. I remembered I was MAD at him, so why was I spouting his name like a gurgling drainpipe? I raised my hands to stop my lips from moving, but one more thing slipped out.

"It must be Loin's!" I added, pleased to be able to contribute yet another helpful fact to the conversation. I dropped my hands and smiled - the same smile I could picture Bofur smiling the day at Beorn's house, proud as I could - then realized I was likely making as much a fool of myself as he was then. This was driven home by the weird look Bilbo gave me, which twisted my grin into a timid, embarrassed smile.

"Who?" He asked, in disbelief at how stark raving mad I was acting, and then shook his head. "Bofur, that's because it IS yours, do you understand? We're going around in circles, we are lost!"

The group degenerated into squabbling then, doing more than enough talking to fill the silence I had felt obligated to fill before. Something about losing the sun, I wasn't quite paying attention, but Bilbo was climbing a tree, and it seemed like a good idea at that moment, so I started to follow him up.

It was hard though, and the branches were clinging and grabbing at my arms, and clothes, and hair. The sticks were sticky. I thought I had problems, until I saw Bilbo do a reverse swan dive into a white webbed sheet, followed by the biggest spider I had ever seen.

No, the second biggest. The biggest was right above me. I screamed, let my grip on the tree go, fell backwards and hit the ground hard. With the wind knocked out of me, I hardly registered getting swept up by the arms of the spider, hoisted into the air and spun round and round and round. This made me nauseous, and it was all I could do to take a deep breath and shut the world out.

* * *

I woke to a brief feeling of weightlessness followed by a somewhat jarring impact as I landed on my side on the ground. I felt extremely claustrophobic as I was still wound tight with webs, but I violently kicked and thrashed about until I managed to free my hands and arms. I tore the sticky silk off my face, feeling more revived and clear-headed after a few deep breaths then I had since entering the accursed forest. All the dwarves appeared to be on the ground around me, in various stages of cleaning themselves of the webbing as well.

After clearing off my legs I stood up and looked around for Bilbo. Movement in the distance caught my eye, and I took a few steps forward, trying to peer past the twisted trees, but it was not the hobbit. My scream rent the air once more as the beastly spiders raced towards us. I stumbled backwards, utterly terrified of these new horrors, and felt a hand grip around my arm and pull me behind the rank of dwarves. A few had lost their weapons and now brandished large branches, while those lucky enough to have had theirs safe in a scabbard when they were wound up now drew them and prepared to fight. I, however, stood helplessly behind them all, eyes wide and battling only the urge to bolt.

As the spiders descended upon us, all madness broke loose. They seemed to come from every direction. Fili, somehow noticing my defenceless state amidst the chaos, shoved a small but heavy sword in my hand.

I mostly avoided conflict by flinching and ducking as the others smashed into the creatures around me. Eventually I dodged my way into the hollow of a large trunk on the edge of the fight. I was being a coward and I was ashamed of it, but I was more afraid of these abominations than even the orcs. I was quite terrified of _small_ spiders, let alone these giants. I peered back out towards the battle. Though a great many spider carcasses now littered the area, the dwarves did not seemed to have made any head-way at all. More and more kept appearing, even dropping down from above. The dwarves were struggling. I cursed and stepped out of hiding, running to the aid of Nori who was closest. I swung my sword as hard as I could at the leg of the goliath he was fighting. The brittle limb gave way, causing the creature to become off-balance and giving Nori the opportunity to finish it off. He yelled a quick thanks at me before rushing off to help some others.

I barely had the chance to register another monster rushing at me. I quickly righted my grip on the weapon and tried to strike it as it came upon me, but it was too quick, and too clever, and in a blindingly fast move it had knocked the sword from my hand with one of its slim front legs and proceeded to push me over. I scrambled backwards, nearly blind with panic, but it was relentless in its pursuit. I could see its disgusting claspers gnashing at me, its many black eyes watching me hungrily.

I felt my fear well at the back of my throat and I screamed Bofur's name without even knowing it. But I needn't have done so, as he was already there. I watched as he tugged the beast back. The spider turned away from me and towards him as it felt a back leg being pulled on, but Bofur had already picked up my sword and was ready to strike. He plunged the weapon deep into the creature's head and it thumped to the ground, twitching. Bofur was still scowling as he looked to me, but his expression softened somewhat when I met his eyes; he hastily ran over and helped me to my feet.

"Bofur. Please. Get me out of here." I pleaded, my voice, and whole body for that matter, shaking uncontrollably. I took his hand and tried to pull him back towards the deep shadows of the forest, but he didn't budge. "Please." I tried once more, looking at him as best I could through the tears blurring my eyes. "I need to leave. Come with me. Run with me. Please, we have to go now!"

A spider then rushed towards us and I half screamed, half sobbed and blanched away from it. My knees buckled and I fell forward and gripped the front of Bofur's coat. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my face into his shoulder and felt a strong, reassuring arm wrap round my waist. I felt his body tense and waited for the impact of the spider to take us down, but instead I heard an odd whirring noise followed by a squelch and I looked to see the spider fall before us, an arrow sticking out of its head.

At first I thought it from Kili, but then the rest of the spiders began falling, arrows piercing their great hairy bodies. I noticed them then, the elves, and before I knew it there was an arrow aimed right at us. The elf warrior that stood before us, his bow drawn, seemed to raise an eyebrow when he took in the fact that I was a women, a human woman, cowering into a dwarf, with a thick dwarf arm wrapped protectively around my middle. Though besides that small movement, that tiny arching of his brow, his face otherwise remained completely impassive. Bofur, by comparison, did not hold back in unleashing the most unpleasant sneer he could manage.

Everyone was then distracted as a commotion broke out nearby, followed by shouts that were instantly recognized by his brother as Kili's. The elves kept up their guard, however, and would let no one move. There were sounds of battle, then silence. The company waited with baited breath, then relaxed slightly as Kili was led back to the group, escorted by a female elf warrior. He looked almost sheepish as he was shoved amidst the others.

"Search them." one of the elves ordered. The female followed with a command in elvish.

I was torn away from Bofur and quickly padded down; though it was quickly apparent I had absolutely nothing on my person, so I watched the dwarves being divested of their remaining weapons and questioned about some of their other possessions as well. Though there was much grumbling and scowling, they did not seem to put up too much of a struggle. A blanket of fatigue began to cover me, not the dizzying, trance-like sleepiness that the forest had been inducing earlier, but genuine full-fledged exhaustion. I'm sure the dwarves were tired as well, and the entire company likely just wanted to leave the forest behind, even if it was at the behest of elves.

The blonde-haired male giving orders was then presented with Thorin's sword. He spoke in his own tongue, appraising the blade almost lovingly, and then he looked to Thorin.

"Where did you get this?" he asked sternly.

"It was given to me." Thorin replied.

"Not just a thief, but a liar as well." The elf remarked before shouting another order I did not understand. Its meaning quickly became clear as the elves then urged us to move, shunting us into single file and flanking us on all sides.

_The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin... They're less wise... And more dangerous._

Beorn's council was my only insight into the elves of Thranduil's woodland realm. His warnings proved all too true, though I was naive to how cunning their nature could truly be.

Our course took us far from the nest of spiders, and while the trees no longer seemed to move to bar our way, the trek was even more complex than before, and with the added complication of thick elven rope binding our hands. My eyelids started to become heavy, but if I slowed I was rewarded with a little push on the back of my shoulder by one of the guards. I glared at him each time he did so but, as expected, his expression stayed blank.

By the time we neared our destination, I was so far lost and we had walked for so long that I would not have been surprised to find myself right back where we had started. Not so, though.

There was a growing, tremulous rumble of rushing water ahead. As we reached the base of a small decline in the path, the forest canopy lifted away, revealing a monumental chasm. I could hear the echoed roar of the river's cascades far below.

Across the chasm, a stone bridge led to a gate set into the cliff face amongst monolithic pillars, which supported the weight of the stone above. As we crossed it, I began to feel the same refreshing sensation as in Rivendell. There was a subtle difference though. Where Rivendell was open to the sky, free in the mountain air, this place was suppressed beneath all the weight of the earth. The air here felt older, and heavy. While some of the dwarves grumbled and tugged, unaware to the magics around them, I allowed myself to be led willingly into the wondrous splendour of this hidden territory.

We thus entered the Woodland Realm of the Elven King.

We did not know at the time how hard it would be to leave it.


	17. The Council of Elves

The massive doors of Thranduil's kingdom began to swing close as we crossed the threshold into the elven realm. We were followed shortly by the stern male elf seemingly in charge of the others, who took a moment to ensure that we were the last to enter. As the doors shut, a strong draft of air must have been drawn inwards, brushing against my side and causing me to shiver, though there was no sign of it disturbing anyone else. The group halted just within, on a stone outcropping large enough to hold twice our number, but which was nowhere near the largest in the catacomb opening out before us. I stepped away from the group as far as my bonds would allow, slowly so as to not arouse suspicion. My bewilderment was noticed, however, and a few of our guards almost appeared to smirk at my awestruck expression. I was too enthralled to care, though in the corner of my eye I made sure to keep the dwarves in view.

"Wait 'til you see Erebor. I expect it'll put this shambled cave to shame, really." Bofur remarked to Ori, which earned him a sharp cuff on the back of the head that nearly knocked his hat off. He righted it and glared daggers at the culprit.

While we waited, the blonde male elf spoke with the red-haired female in their own language, eventually calling forward another female that had met us at the entrance. At one point all three of them turned to look my way while their conversation continued. It made me uncomfortable, reminding me of the late nights in the tavern when men, well into their cups, would stare uncouthly, all the while conspiring all matter of foul plans to get a rise out of me. I drew closer to the dwarves, back to the feeling of safety that comes with familiarity. Despite what they might have thought of me at that moment, their hatred of the elves trumped all else and they allowed me close, some even stepping in front of me and looking defiantly back at our captors' calculating stares.

Finally, a decision seemed to be made as the trio broke apart and moved towards us. Orders were barked and our group was pulled apart, causing the dwarves to struggle against their bonds. The female elves strode directly into our midst - directly towards me - and I began to panic. The red-haired captain took my arm. It was not an aggressive grip, just enough pressure to encourage me not to move as the other released my bonds. I was then guided away from the group, which caused a more frantic struggle from some of my companions. I spun my head around; looking wildly about for anything that could explain what was going on.

Thorin had also been pulled aside while the rest of the dwarves were being led from the platform down into the depths below by the male commander. Bofur shouted my name, struggling against both the elves and his brothers, who could see the futility of such actions. I closed my eyes and forced myself calm, not wanting anyone to get hurt on my account. When I opened my eyes, I smiled as brave as I could and boldly shouted the words "Maybe they're just offering us food!" After all, I was in a much better situation than any of them. My humour did little to calm them.

Seeing the struggle beginning to develop, my red-headed captor spoke a few hasty words to her companion before rushing to join the fray. Kili in particular was making quite a show of himself, straining against his restraints as much as they would allow. He continued right up until the female captain laid a hand on his arm, at which point he locked eyes with hers, pulled once for the sake of his pride, and then allowed himself to be escorted away. I lost sight of them shortly thereafter.

The other female continued to guide me, up some winding stairwells, across narrow stone bridges, through the ethereal labyrinth that was the realm. I tried to keep track, but my weariness made it difficult to remember the way. Finally we came to a carven door at the entrance to a small antechamber. She pulled it open and ushered me inside before pulling the door closed behind us.

I studied the room. The sound of distant rushing water was now nearer, though muffled by the smooth rock walls. Two massive tree roots loomed down from up above, and where they met the floor they curved in opposite directions and then back towards each other to overlap. From the ceiling the water came slowly trickling down the roots, until it pooled in their encirclement, and then just as slowly drained away again into the wall. Stone steps disappeared into the moving waters, giving me hope that I might soon be free from the spiders' vile webs.

"You may rest, and wash here." the elf woman instructed. "I will wait just beyond the door." Something about her tone made it sound like more of a threat than a harmless comment. Her meaning was clear; she would be _guarding_ the door.

My eyes narrowed. "Where are the others?"

"I assure you they will not come to harm. They will be offered the same courtesies as yourself." She gestured towards the adjacent wall which was lined with wooden shelves housing a variety of items. "Help yourself to anything you need. Take your time."

Before I could object she turned on her heel and let herself out, closing the door with finality.

I scowled, wondering if the dwarves were being led to baths themselves. The elves must really be offended by poor hygiene. I studied the room, expectedly there we no other exits. Seeing no other alternative, and not being too adverse to the idea of a quick wash (in the very least to perhaps speed along the process of being reunited with the others), I wandered to shelf to see what was being offered. I grabbed a towel, vials of shampoo and soap, a brush, and also noticed a few stacks of folded clothing. Setting down my pile, I rifled through the garments, hesitating when I found a pair of fresh leggings. I looked down at my own, lifting my foot slightly to see them better. They were terribly stained, so much so it was difficult to even determine what colour they were supposed to be anymore, plus both knees were quite threadbare, a small hole starting in one. I wrinkled my nose. Truly they were beyond filthy.

_She did say to help myself to anything, _I thought with a shrug as I tossed them over my shoulder and also grabbed a new long undershirt, tunic and even a vest from the now very rumpled piles. I then picked up my towel and other items and dumped them by the side of the pool. I tossed aside my old leggings, shift, and my torn, stained top, hoping the elves would dispose of them rather than try to launder them and expect me to put them back on. I unwrapped the binding from my shoulder and was pleased to see the wound, the front one I could easily see at least, appeared rather healed despite the rigours I faced in Mirkwood. I then, regretfully, began to undo the intricate braiding in my hair.

The water was cooler then the Rivendell baths so I did not waste much time after scrubbing and washing my hair before I dried off and dressed. It felt lovely to put on new clothes, though simple in design and of neutral colours, they were woven finely and of much better quality than what I was used to. I laced up the fitted vest then donned my old travel coat and my gifted cloak from Elrond. Both were quite dirty and travel worn as well, but I dared not part with them when I had no replacements at hand. I also shrugged back on my boots, wishing I had a new pair as mine were now rather stiff and discoloured.

After brushing my hair and redoing it in a simple, messy braid secured once more with Kili's dwarven metal clasp, I stepped up to the door and knocked on it before pushing it open. My elven guard had been replaced by the red-haired warrior from the forest. Her eyes darted over me as I stepped from the room.

"You look much better. Like a human again, and less..." she gazed off, and seemed to think better of continuing.

"Like a Dwarf?" I asked coldly. She turned her head and smiled a small, rueful smile. Was that embarrassment I saw? Elves were usually better reserved than that. She said nothing more, but instead took my elbow to guide me with one hand while gesturing the way forward with the other.

"Can you tell me your name?" I asked as we started along an entirely new path, I had now given up trying to remember the route, it seemed impossible.

"Tauriel." she responded curtly. She already knew mine, however, and when I questioned her how she did, she told me she heard one of the dwarves shout it when I was led away.

"I do not understand," she continued as we walked up a winding stairwell through an immense root system. "You are a human woman, clad in the garb of our kin," she briefly grabbed my cloak for emphasis, "yet we find you in the middle of the Greenwood amidst a company of thirteen dwarves?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but my words caught in my throat when I heard an echo of a shout break the placid silence of the vast elven underworld. I ceased my steps, causing Tauriel to stop as well. I recognized the voice.

"-SHOULD THE END OF ALL DAYS BE UPON US!"

Thorin's deep yelling permeated throughout the cavernous realm, though I could not determine the whereabouts of its source. There was no questioning his anger.

"YOU! WHO LACK ALL HONOUR!"

Tauriel pulled me back into motion. "Ignore that." she said distractedly.

I frowned. "Look," I began, trying to keep her walking slowly. "I appreciate the chance to freshen up, but can I please be brought back to my companions now?"

Tauriel shot me a sideways glance. "Of course," she said kindly. "Yet there is one more kindness I wish to offer you. You have been on the road for some time - if your previous condition was any judge of it." Our course ended before another doorway, this one much more ornate than the one before. As she opened it, amazing aromas wafted out, and my stomach overruled any desires to get back to my companions before at least hearing Tauriel out. She went on to explain.

"The dwarves have been offered the same, but apparently they do not accept the courtesy of the woodland realm as graciously as you."

I stepped inside and stared longingly at a table lined with dozens of ornate dishes, both hot and cold, surely enough to feed over a dozen. Of particular note were the cooked meats that formed the centrepieces, indicating that the woodland elves did in fact hunt for substance unlike their kin in Rivendell. The room was empty, however, save for us. I looked back at Tauriel, unsure, but she smiled and gestured to a chair.

"I cannot remember when I've last eaten." I said wistfully as I sat down and began piling an empty plate with a bit of everything within reach. Tauriel delicately sat down across from me and poured some water for both herself and I.

We sat in silence as I began to put as much food as I could into my mouth at once. After a few bites, though, while taking a break to chew, I caught sight of my host, who was sitting very straight and looking off to one side of the table. I got the feeling she was trying hard not to look my way. My poor manners seemed to make her uncomfortable, and so I sat straighter and exercised my willpower to slow myself down.

This gave me more time to examine the elaborate room, which seemed much more fit to entertaining royalty than guests. I wondered whose room this was. My wonder turned to the elf seated across from me, who was looking back at me now that I was no longer embarrassing myself.

"Thank you for the meal..." I began, and she smiled graciously.

"Think nothing of it. My Lord Thranduil wished no expense spared. We do not often get visitors, especially in such mixed and honourable company. How is it that a human girl came to be held in such high esteem by Thorin, son of Thrain?"

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, unable to comprehend why she thought I was worth even a footnote in the quest of Thorin Oakenshield. Sensing my confusion, she explained her intuition.

"Word has reached us of orcs hunting the western borders of the forest. They seek out a company of thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and a human girl, a 'respected friend of Thorin Oakenshield and valued member of his company' I believe was how they phrased it."

I almost choked on my next mouthful as I tried to disguise my snort of humour when I recalled the small white lie I had told Azog and his pack to try and keep myself alive. I turned aside and covered my mouth, coughing as politely as I could. Tauriel handed me my water goblet, I nodded in thanks and composed myself quickly. After clearing my throat, I looked at her thoughtfully, wondering if I should continue to stretch the truth. Worried she would see through deceit, I decided to give her a more honest account. No, I did not exactly trust her, but I had nothing to gain by pretending, and being clean and fed put me in a good mood for sharing.

"Friend is a bit of a strong word." I admitted with a small smile. "I am, in a sense, their companion... And I would say I am friends with many of them, for my part anyway. I have travelled with them for many leagues. I tried to use my affiliation to Thorin as a shield when we became separated and I was accosted by the orcs."

Tauriel's eyes widened a fraction, and then narrowed to the dangerous look I recognized from the forest.

"You escaped unscathed?" She asked, appraising me, judging me.

"No..." I raised my hand to rub my shoulder subconsciously. "I was wounded and left for dead while the orcs turned their attention to my companions." I smiled to myself. "I think it was a bit of a shock to them when I got back up and dragged one of the vermin off a cliff."

Tauriel frowned. "I have not heard of human maids being quite so-"

"Lucky?" I offered cheekily. Tauriel sighed and shook her head slightly, but a grin played around her mouth.

She fell into a thoughtful silence for a few minutes as I cleaned up my plate. When I was through I looked up at her questioningly, wondering if she would now bring me back to the others, but she made no move to get up.

"These dwarves, you are loyal to them?" she asked softly, gazing down at the table as she did so.

I did not answer straightaway, causing her to look back up to me. "I am loyal to one, at any rate." I said with a slight unbidden smile. I looked away, somewhat embarrassed.

"The dwarf wearing the hat?" she prompted, causing me to bite my lip. Elves were just much too perceptive. She looked at me in a peculiar fashion, but her expression was not snide, instead it seemed to hold a hint of curiosity.

"You said you were friends with some of the others?" she continued, ignoring my silence.

I nodded, glad she was moving the conversation along and I began to ramble. "I would like to think so anyway. Some have yet to express their fondness towards me, Thorin being one of them. But I'm sure I could count in Ori, the young one, and his kin, maybe even _Óin_, plus Kili and Fili for sure-"

"Kili." Tauriel said faintly, maybe more to herself. "The archer?" she then asked more strongly, raising her eyebrows at me.

"Yes, that's him." I clarified, remembering she had some direct contact with him in the forest. I looked at her critically. It was the way she had said his name, like a secret whisper.

We both jumped as the door swung open. Tauriel sprung to her feet in haste. I gaped as King Thranduil himself strode in, his identity irrefutable and his long cloak trailing lightly behind him. He came to a stop at the head of the table and turned to face us, but he did not sit. He placed his hands on the back of the chair and leaned forward slightly.

"So, this is the girl?" he asked resonantly, fixing me with a hard stare.

Tauriel bobbed her head. "Yes, my Lord."

Thranduil remained still, his gaze lingering on me. I could feel my composure waning, and eventually my eyes dropped away from him. He smirked at this, and for a moment my temper rose - as if he, an immortal king, should feel any pleasure at all in showing his dominance over a human girl. It was almost insulting.

His words flowed like syrup, sweet and slow, but I resisted their spell.

"I see Tauriel has not been remiss in showing you the generosities of my realm. After such a long journey from..." He looked at me again calculatingly and then continued, barely a ghost of a question in his voice when he guessed "Bree?"

My body language betrayed the answer, and so I nodded. He nodded as well, self-satisfied and smug, and then slowly began along the length of the table towards me.

"You may have heard that we are less cultured than Elrond's Ilk in his last homely house. Have you been offered wine?" He passed behind my chair and moved to the serving table against the wall behind me, pouring a glass and holding it out in offering. I shook my head, and he kept it for himself instead.

"Your companions are eager to get to their objective, but I felt you must be warned. There are darker things than orcs in this world, and Thorin is leading you, and your... _friends_," He added, glancing at Tauriel, who looked down at her hands, "...towards a force so powerful that even noble intentions and honourable bloodlines cannot prevail."

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he came around along the opposite side of the table, coming to rest beside Tauriel.

"Thorin will not prevail if he seeks to challenge the dragon head on. I offered him my aid, but he refused - as you may have heard. If he truly wishes to reclaim his home, he will need help, and experience."

I looked at him fully for the first time since he entered the room. "Why did Thorin refuse you?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed and he looked down his nose at me. "Because he lacks simple wisdom. Thorin cannot see beyond his own greed. Dwarves have always been the same. They do not treat fairly with other races, but instead hoard their wealth, monopolizing all others."

He paused, sweeping his cloak to the side and continuing around the table back towards me.

"I offered Thorin the assistance he would require to reclaim Erebor. In exchange, he would return to me the heirlooms of my people. They had been promised to me when Thror still ruled under the mountain. The dwarves, however, for all their _honour_, are less keen to keep their word if it means parting with an ancient treasure, even one that is not rightfully theirs to keep."

I contemplated his words as he strode up beside me and fixed me with a pointed look.

"What is it you want from me?" I asked him, wanting to be free of his patronizing air of authority and lazy, calculated stares.

"I want you to convince your misled dwarf leader to come to his senses. He must acquiesce to my terms if he ever wishes to set foot outside my kingdom again."

"So we are prisoners then?" I asked hotly, snapping my gaze to Tauriel and fixing her with a cold furious stare. It had all been a trap.

"You were trespassing in our realm." Thranduil explained calmly. "And trespassing is a crime."

"We were NOT trespassing." I said loudly, standing up from my seat in anger. "We lost our way; we had no intention of even coming here."

"Take her to the dungeons like the others." Thranduil ordered with a flick of his hand as he walked towards the door. "Humans break easier than dwarves. She will cooperate. Eventually." He paused in the doorway, and then turned to look back at me over his shoulder. "Tell Thorin Oakenshield he will never leave these halls until we reach an agreement."

He crossed the threshold and was gone, the door closing with resounding finality behind him. I barely heard Tauriel step up beside me. I felt her grip on my arm as she tried to escort me out but I wrenched free of her grasp.

"I can walk on my own." I snapped. "Honestly where could I run? You could shoot me down in half a second if you needed to."

She looked at me with a rather shocked expression, causing me to lower my resentful glaring.

"Follow me." she said quietly.

I paid no heed to anything as I was guided to the lower levels.

"Do you want your own cell?" Tauriel muttered, slowing her pace as we approached the beginning of the prisoner keeps.

I shook my head, surprised I even had a choice. We walked along a narrow path, up and down some series of steps, passing a few thick black iron doors along the way. I turned my head to see familiar faces peering out at me as I was led by, but I had no time to convey anything to them.

Finally she stopped in front of one door and grabbed out her set of keys to unlock it, she took my shoulder and pushed me gently inside when she had opened it, quickly closing and locking it again behind me. I looked up to see the confused faces of Bofur, Fili and Dori staring at me.

I turned quickly, grabbing the bars of the door and looking to Tauriel, wondering if she was trying to show me a kindness in her decision to place me in this cell in particular. She arched an eyebrow, smirking somewhat, and I grinned a small thank you. She nodded very slightly and then took her leave. I turned back to the dwarves.

"Where did they take you?" Fili asked, standing up and stepping towards me.

I was about to explain when I heard a harsh voice from the neighbouring cell. There was a small, barred window in the thick stone wall separating the two and Thorin stepped up to it, leaning his head against the metal divides in order look in at us.

"What did you tell them?" he demanded.

I snapped back "I told them you have a fondness for dressing in woman's clothing and engaging in unnatural acts with livestock!" I was tired of his accusatory and belittling attitude when I had done nothing to deserve it. I heard Dori gasp at the audacity of such a statement. Bofur coughed inauspiciously. Fili just shuffled nervously.

Rather than provoking a rise out of Thorin, it simply seemed to dishearten him. He let out a world-weary sigh and simply glared at me, as if to ask 'really?'

"I told him nothing." I admitted more calmly as I walked to the back of the cell. "They simply want me to try and convince you to strike a bargain so we can get out of here, something about an heirloom of his?"

Thorin groaned and cursed under his breath. "Long has Thranduil lusted for the Jewels of Eryn Lasgalen." he muttered. "But he shall never set eyes upon them. Not while I still draw breath."

I sighed and shrugged then slowly slumped to the floor, ready to relax for a while. At that point I didn't much care for the sensitive timeline of Thorin's quest, I was quite content to just be out of the forest and somewhere safe, (and away from the spiders) where I could rest. I took off my cloak and bunched it up, then lay down and used it as a pillow. Within mere moments I was quite drowzy, extremely content to just be off my feet, and within another few moments I was nearly drifting. I sleepily glanced at my cell mates, Bofur had sat with his back to the wall near the door and Dori was leaning against the bars, looking quite forlorn. Fili was speaking with Thorin at the window. I yawned and decided to rest my eyes.

I knew I would have been interested to hear the quiet conversation that occurred after I fell to slumber, but as it was, I was blissfully unaware...

* * *

Bofur watched as the girl's breathing deepened and knew she was now decidedly fast asleep.

"Maybe they gave her a sleeping potion... or worse?" Dori piqued up ominously after noticing the girl had fallen into such a quick slumber.

"Don't be foolish." Balin scolded from the next cell as he sidled up to the window to peer in.

"I think she's just exhausted." Bofur offered.

Balin nodded. "Humans generally require more sleep than other races. Her body shuts down faster."

Fili glanced at her sleeping form. "It's a wonder they even survive as long as they do, such fragile things."

Dori looked towards her as well. "It's a shame they live such short lives... Must be so unfulfilling for them." he said, shaking his head sympathetically and returning his gaze beyond the bars of their prison.

Bofur frowned then spoke up. "I don't think that's true." he said thoughtfully. "Aye, they don't live as long as we do, but perhaps their lives are even more fulfilling because of it." he paused, looking in her direction. "She seems to feel, well, _more._ She excites faster... And upsets faster." he added with a small, knowing grin. He then truly looked at her, his eyes softening. "She sees wonder in things we are blind to, and does not let the darkness from her past rule over her..."

He stopped when he noticed the others staring at him. Balin nodded, and drew the attention his way as he offered his input.

"Aye, humans are often underestimated, but they have been known to do extraordinary things." he said. "They have a power within them as well, different from the likes of elves and dwarves. Don't forget that it was a human who cut down the common enemy of all our peoples. The world would surely be a darker place if not for the courage of men. Girion of Dale was a good Lord as well, and led his people for many long years before Smaug arrived. He stood his ground, and made a good show of it too - can't say we dwarves fared any better against the dragon. Aye, many humans would flee, but one in a hundred-thousand has proven worth more than entire armies. I recall one battle..." His voice droned on, echoing out into the halls of the woodland realm to mingle with distant sounds of revelry and mirth as the elves partook in a celebration up above.

Bofur glanced sidelong at the sleeping girl, no longer interested in Balin's history lesson. He remembered when they first met her; the tall, lanky, naive thing that she was. Yet even then, she had shown remarkable strength, standing up rather well to over a dozen armed and hostile strangers. He was intrigued, especially when she joined the group. And then she began surprising him - over and over again. She was quiet at first, and somewhat reserved, yet when he attempted to make her open up he found that she seemed to actually enjoy witty banter, and sarcasm besides. He had earned some warning looks from his comrades when he began teasing her, something usually best reserved for only the most audacious dwarf women, but how he liked to see her fair cheeks turn pink. Surprisingly she took it all in stride and she unexpectedly grew bolder than most of the mild-mannered maidens he had met over the years. Now this slight of frame, delicate young woman cracked innuendos of her own and it was hilarious to behold. She certainly was different, to say the least.

In Rivendell she had opened up to him, and her somewhat contradictory nature suddenly made sense. He had suspected some unpleasant story, as she had been so reluctant to discuss her life, and he could feel the shame rolling off of her when the subject was breeched. His anger at her ill-treatment surprised him, though she did not vie for sympathy, choosing to whole-heartedly move on. Despite only knowing her for such a short time, leaving her behind at Thorin's command was difficult; more so was breaking his word to her, yet he felt hopeful for her safety in doing so.

That was the first time he had lost her.

She was stubborn, however, near as stubborn as a dwarf, and returned to the group on her own, thankfully in one piece. Yet as she grew closer to him, certain differences between them were thrown into stark relief. He knew she had to be young, he also knew of the differences in aging between races, but he could not pretend it wasn't something of a shock to hear of her true age, and he could not ignore the utter dismayed astonishment on her face when she found out his. Soon, however, she was not bothered by his age at all but by his cold, dismissive attitude when she had innocently asked about his personal life. He regretted it instantly - she meant him no harm and didn't deserve such rudeness.

He had gone cold with fear when they had fallen into Goblin town and she was left stranded on the mountainside.

That was the second time he had lost her.

He knew he had failed her then, and brought out his anger on the hoard of goblins they fought through. Yet then he saw her, despite all likeliness, being led by an orc through the flames while they clung for their lives on the falling trees. He shouted desperately, nearly falling himself when Azog impaled her. He watched her slight form being lifted by that evil scum bastard and that's when he truly felt hopeless, believing it was the third and final time he would lose her.

It wasn't fair that she had to die for them, that sweet, unassuming, courageous girl that he inexplicably, truly cared for. The sheer desperation allowed him, and many others, to find the strength to reach solid ground, to fight. He then saw her get up to fight with them, and his hope was arisen. He moved towards her, but there were always more. He could not make any progress without being surrounded on all sides. As he struggled to take down a warg, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she had taken an orc in a vice-like hold to help Fili. He brought the beast down in one more blow, then ran. Ran to save her. But then she freed herself, like the lucky human girl that she was.

And then his heart stopped as her footing gave way.

He had lost her once more.

He dared to feel hope again when the eagles descended, and that hope was rewarded when he found her waiting atop the Carrock. Yet her injuries were severe, and she almost succumbed to them. He knew he could not handle losing her again. It was tearing him apart, and he spent four terrible days watching her battered body battle the infection from her wounds.

Despite everything, despite all odds, she had made it. Her fortitude was to be marvelled at, and marvel he did.

And when he looked at her, he felt... _something_. Something long forgotten, something he did not know was possible to feel again, especially towards a human. She had become beautiful in his eyes. Yet he knew it was just _not _possible...

But the way she felt against him in that god-forsaken river, her warm body clinging softly to his chest amidst the icy waters... watching her walk out of the Anduin, dripping wet and glistening in the sunlight as her small clingy dress revealed every curve of her slight form... and her shy smile and tentative touch as she dried next to him on the grass, _Durin's beard_, how could any man resist? He lost his head and kissed her then. And when he came to his senses he worried he had just destroyed their friendship... he worried she would be afraid of him. Yet she surprised him once more by voicing her desire as well. But why would such a lovely young woman want to be with him at all? A working class dwarf of no name? It just didn't make any sense. He pushed her away, trying to uphold normality, trying to keep things right.

It was just wasn't possible, after all.

It didn't last long however: he could not stay away from her, he could hardly keep his eyes off her, and rejecting her tentative advances? Impossible. After a very blissful night when he was finally able to wrap his arms around her, finally able to pull her impossibly close and revel in the fact that she wanted the same, the illusion was harshly shattered. He was forced to confront what he had been trying to ignore, and then he had to shut her out completely. This was the worst of it. Seeing her confused and hurt, and rejecting the apology she need not even give. Nothing was her fault. He could not even look at her, lest he knew he would come undone.

He truly thought he had, once and for all, lost her to Beorn, and by his own urging at that.

Her words had cut him deeply... _'If I were a dwarf, would things be different?' _

How he wished then to forsake all tradition.

Her race, her... humanity... it did not matter to him, not now, and it was not what was keeping them apart. He wished he could explain it, but could not find the courage. His past was the wedge that would forever separate them.

He knew things had to be a certain way. But still... Having to say good-bye to her somehow felt like driving a nail into his future. Could he simply leave her? Forget about her, when he was lucky to even be noticed by her at all? He had voiced his secret fears to his brother, who listened whole-heartedly but did not offer any sage advice.

When she refused to be parted from them once more he felt a small bubble of optimism grow in his chest. And now here they were. Against every likelihood they had both made it this far. He fought the desire to move beside her, to take up her hand, to stroke her hair, and bring to light his conflicted feelings - Thorin and tradition be damned.

...But he mustn't.

Just being around her, keeping watch over her...

It had to be enough.


	18. Barrels Out of Bond

"Wake up. Quick."

I was jarred out of my wonderfully sound sleep as two strong hands grabbed my own and pulled me upright, forcing me onto my feet before I was even fully awake. I mumbled and stumbled, squinting through tired eyes at Bofur who was still holding me steady. He smiled so broadly I couldn't possibly be mad.

"Bilbo is here to let us out. We have to go now." he explained in a quick whisper and I managed to clear my head.

"Bilbo?" I repeated incredulously as I let go of his hands and looked to the door. Indeed the hobbit was just outside, fumbling at our lock with a set of keys.

"Master Bilbo!" exclaimed Dori, who shuffled over to the bars excitedly. "What are you doing down here?"

"I've been scouting the place for ages, trying to find a way to get you all out of here." Bilbo explained in a quick whisper after shushing Dori unceremoniously. "We only have one chance, so let's not mess it up, and do try to be quiet."

We had been kept imprisoned for a number of days; it was difficult to determine how many, yet I was growing weary of listening to Thorin in the next cell over growling under his breath about wasted time. The elves, however, had kept us well fed and had regularly allowed us out in turns to wash up. I was even allotted a silk blanket to use in the cell, a privilege that seemed to only be offered to myself, being of the genteel sex. In truth, being a prisoner of Thranduil was exactly what I needed in order to fully rest and recover from the violent ordeals we had previously been through. Though the dwarves had grown increasingly impatient, I had found the entire situation somewhat ideal; my shoulder no longer pained me and Bofur had even reverted to his kind ways and began speaking with me again.

We tiptoed out of the now open cell and into line behind the others that had been released. I saw Bilbo dash up a few steps and open another door to let out Kili. Then we were off, creeping down the deserted pathways led by the hobbit, who luckily did seem to know where to go. My stomach knotted in worry as I kept a keen eye out for the guards, yet the entire kingdom seemed strangely vacant. After a tense journey we found ourselves quietly entering a wine cellar. Bilbo directed us past some sleeping elves and down a set of large stone steps, at the bottom of which was an expansive but cluttered storage area. The room was lined with shelves of wine and currently full of stacked empty barrels.

"You were supposed to be leading us out, not further in!" Bofur hissed when the group became aware that they were now lost somewhere in the very depths of the kingdom with no immediate exit in sight. I swatted Bofur's arm to stop him from further chastising our rescuer.

"I know what I'm doing!" Bilbo retorted, to which Bofur glanced at me, and then uncouthly shushed the poor hobbit before shuffling further in.

"Everyone, climb into the barrels, quickly!" Bilbo ordered when we had all descended the stairs and were now crammed in the narrow space between a wine rack and the barrels.

"Are you mad?!" Dwalin demanded, shoving his way back towards the hobbit. "They'll find us!"

"No, no, they won't, I promise you." Bilbo insisted as quietly as possibly. "Please, please, you MUST trust me!"

We eyed him, then the barrels rather speculatively, but nobody otherwise moved.

Bilbo looked to Thorin desperately.

"Do as he says!" Thorin ordered, which instantly had the desired effect. With their leader's encouragement the dwarves quickly ambled forward. I began to piece together Bilbo's plan and hung back as they began piling into individual barrels. I stared at the hobbit, wondering what madness had come upon him to think that this was a good idea.

"Do you prefer to be on the top, or the bottom?" Bofur asked me, I wordlessly turned to him to see his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips. My own eyebrows narrowed, clearly showing I was not impressed with his comedic timing, but I bit back a grin.

"I'll ride on top." I retorted, as innocently as I could but fixing him with a pointed look of my own.

He nodded towards one of the topmost empty barrels, back to business, and leaving me wondering whether his comment was innuendo, or a legitimate question. He then linked his hands and offered them for me to use as a step to hoist myself up. I shook my head sceptically, hoping our luck would not run out, then placed my foot into his hands and pushed myself up. Grabbing onto the barrel on the second row I was able to climb up to my perch on the third row. Once I had sorted myself and turned the proper direction I stuck my head out and noticed Bofur had climbed into the barrel below mine.

"What do we do now?" Bofur asked, peering out as well. All the others stuck out their heads too, looking towards Bilbo and awaiting his next direction.

"Hold your breath." Bilbo said simply as he stepped up and grasped a large lever that came up from the floor alongside the barrels.

"Hold my breath? What do you mean?" Bofur asked worriedly, yet he did not get a vocal answer. Instead, Bilbo pulled the lever and the trapdoor we were all resting upon suddenly swung open.

My view of the world pitched violently to one side, followed by a teeth-clacking drop as Bofur's barrel beneath me fell out from under my own. We then rolled to the end of the ramp, upended into empty space and plummeted to what I was sure would be the death of me, all the while serenaded by the strangest scream I had ever heard.

"Aiaiaiaiaiaiaiiii!"

I admit that I also did my fair share of screaming during our brief plummet into the underground river. I had the good sense, at least, to notice the water fast approaching and take in a quick breath, bracing myself firmly in the barrel only a moment before its wooden frame collided with the steely cold current. The staves of the barrel protested the extra weight it was not accustomed to making the drop with, but held firm and righted itself based on said weight, so that I was now upright along with all the others.

I had only just gotten my bearings and cleared water from my eyes when the wooden ramp swung open once again. Afraid we were about to be caught in the slow moving water, I spun around and looked upwards only to see poor Bilbo slide backwards, stiff as a plank, down towards the water. I could only imagine a back-flop would hurt as much as a belly-flop, and cringed inwardly as he surfaced and was tended to by the nearest dwarves.

Thorin praised him and moved on, with no more sympathy than the water and stones around us.

At this point though, I knew speed was of the essence, and that Thorin was right to press ahead. I focused on figuring out how to shift my body from the uncomfortably squished position it was currently in, and managed to raise myself into something hardly better off by bracing my knees on the front of the barrel, my toes crammed into the back corner, while leaning over the front edge and pulling water with my arms. My stroke would not have won me any races in Laketown, but my familiarity with the water paid off and I found that if I was not careful I began to outpace even the strongest of the dwarves, unsavvy with swimming as they were.

Yet as we excited the darkness of the cave, we barely had time to adjust to the bright sunlight when Thorin shouted a warning and I found myself clinging to the sides of my barrel as the current increased tenfold and we were flung over a waterfall.

To say 'flung' was a bit of an over-exaggeration, but the speed at which we were now going made it feel like if I were to let go, my momentum would vault my fragile human body right out into empty space. No doubt gravity would then take offense to my attempts to elude it, and promptly reintroduce my body to the earth, likely onto a wicked, pointy boulder just out of spite.

In any case, with a dramatic spray of foam and more screaming we pitched over the edge of the falls to join the turbulent, roiling river below.

The waterfall, however, proved to be the least of our worries. While we were busy testing the aerodynamic tendencies of elvish wine barrels, which regrettably did not actually involve drinking any of the wine, the elves decided to punish the keeper of the keys. They did this to the poor, hungover wretch by blowing the most obnoxious sounding horn I had ever heard. So miserable was the sound that I was sure the creature who supplied the horn must have died of shame, and not of some majestic hunt of a bygone age.

This punishment was equally unpleasant for us. Downriver, the guard detail - no doubt surly after missing the festivities - decided to take their frustration out on us.

To make a long story short, the elves blew a horn and shut a gate on us. This was no delicate twirly gate with leaves and flowers on it either, and though Thorin desperately slammed against it, the bars were of thick iron and would not give way. We were stuck. I found myself jostled in amongst the other barrels as fighting broke out across the gateway. I ducked down lower into my barrel as an arrow hit the stones directly next to my head, causing the shaft to explode into a million splinters.

Kili disappeared up and over the bank, heralding the dead bodies of multiple orcs dropping down to add to the clogged waterway. Then Fili shouted for his brother, and I feared the worst. For that brief moment, the roar of the water hushed in my ears. The slaughter of the elves was complete, and now all that remained was to put us down. I tried to see up onto the bridge, to see if Kili was the first to go, but barrels clacked on barrels, and the current flowed on, its noise rising once again to a crescendo.

The sound of running footsteps above echoed in the stone archway of the gate.

Then a faint thud of what could only be the runner dropping directly above us.

Then, the elves fought back. Led by Tauriel, the warriors of the woodland realm dealt swift retribution for their fallen kinsmen. As grateful as I was for the rescue, I was unwilling to return to Thranduil's dungeons so soon, and looked about to see if anyone else was making a move for the gate controls. Just as I prepared to take matters into my own hands, standing up to full height in the barrel, the gates creaked open and I just barely managed to duck back down to avoid a massive concussion that would have ensued had my head collided with the masonry that then rushed by.

For the second time that day I felt my barrel pitch and the world upend as the river suffered a sudden vertical adjustment. When my barrel righted itself, my coughing and spluttering was cut short by the view before me: the entire riverbank teemed with orcs. I spun to see if all my companions had made it, and was relieved to see that even Kili had made it back to his barrel.

The fight that followed was one of the most amazing displays of skill and grace that I had ever seen, though my time was mostly spent ducked below the rim of my barrel and hoping not to get shot, stabbed, crushed, drowned, or otherwise deceased or captured. Elves danced across the treetops matching the speed of the river - a feat in itself - and all the while making blind leaps while firing arrows with deadly accuracy into the orcs below.

The dwarves, who were in the same wretched situation as I, were forced to join the fray as well, and they made quite a show of it. In the half-second breaths between submersion in the rapids, the dwarves pulled orcs into the river, pinned them to trees, chopped down their vantage points, beat them to death with fish, and even took the battle to land, though all I saw of that was Bombur's barrel spiralling through the air overhead from bank to bank, and then his return to the waterways in a completely different barrel.

I began to think I might just get out of the battle without doing a thing. It would have been refreshing for me, a fragile human maid, to do what was expected of her for once on this trip, but that was not to be.

* * *

As we dropped down one of the cascades and rounded the corner, I saw the bane of many a whitewater bargeman: a strainer. A massive tree had been uprooted by the constant erosion of the stony shore, and then fell to brace against boulders jutting up from beneath. Smaller branches and trees were caught in the tangle; causing a blockade that water alone could pass through. The main current thundered by mid-stream, drawing the majority of the barrels ahead of me with it, and for a moment I thought everyone would get by safely - until an orc with a barbed grappling hook emerged on the far shore.

The orc spun the hook over its head once and then let fly. The hook dropped over the edge of the nearest barrel - Balin's - and then bit hard into the wood. The orc nearly lost its grip as the hook took hold, but despite rope burns it managed to hold fast. It didn't even need to haul. The current did the work for it, swinging Balin's barrel like a pendulum into the course of the strainer. In a moment of rapid action, Balin managed to grab the rope and pull the orc into the water, where it disappeared amidst the howl and spray, but that did nothing to change his course.

I leaned dangerously far forwards, and with a modified front stroke I pulled my barrel with all my might, guiding myself towards, not away, from the looming tangle of branches. Balin had already collided with the mass, and despite his best efforts the bottom of his barrel was being pulled under at such an angle that the river began to pour in over the upstream side. My barrel crashed just next to his, and without warning I scrambled up and onto the tree trunk, and then to the steep cliff face. My feet touched down on the edge of his barrel, causing him to look up in alarm at the added weight, but I then slid further down, wedging myself in the small space between the bank and where he had gotten caught. I braced my back on the stone; my feet on the side of his barrel, and pushed his barrel perpendicular to the current.

I pushed so hard my whole body shook, and the barrel inched along the tree trunk, and then slid further, and then in the same instant, his barrel slipped free and I fell. As I felt the cold water envelop my body I panicked, madly grasping for any purchase, knowing I would not be able to free myself once I was pulled under. I would be pinned against branches and stones, the air crushed from my lungs as the hard current beat against the blockade.

Death in such a way would be horrible.

Luckily I was spared from such a death.

My body was flung into the bramble, my last breath forced out of me, the sheer pressure of the churning angry river ready to snuff out my life. Then a hand grabbed the back of my clothing and hauled me free from the water. A familiar red-haired face came into view while I was supported, trembling, still reeling from such inevitable demise. I caught my breath, and when I did I turned to thank my rescuer, but Tauriel spoke first.

"A valued member of the company indeed." She said, releasing me once sure I was steady. "It appears your 'luck' has not yet run out."

"If you stay, there are safer routes to Laketown..." She began, but then noticed where my attention was held: downriver, hoping to catch a glimpse of a floppy, soggy hat.

"Go." She said without further preamble, nodding to where my barrel was now floating amidst the eddy created by the last branches of the strainer - free of its weight, it now bobbed unharmed by the current below. I took her hand briefly, squeezing it as I thanked her.

"Look after him." she said softly as she ushered me forward. I looked back at her once more before climbing down the banks and she offered me a small smile. "Look after both of them."

* * *

After I pushed my barrel away from shore it quickly found the current once more, and after rounding a large bend I saw the others far ahead of me. I thought I should paddle a bit with my arms to try and catch up, but I was now cold and sore, and there was no sign of orcs trailing us at the moment, so I discarded the idea and settled down into my barrel, letting the river take it as far as possible.

I eventually felt the current slow and looked out to see the others ahead paddling towards shore, some of them attempting, without much success, to tip their barrel in order to try and get out. Bombur was rocking himself back and forth so intensely I feared he would flip his barrel right upside down, plus, as it was, he appeared to fit so snugly I wondered if he was stuck.

I flipped out of my own and began to swim towards land, though it quickly became shallow enough to clamber to my feet. I pushed the wet strands of hair from my eyes and then saw Bofur coming towards me. Yet something about his stance made me pause knee-deep in the river, and as he neared I saw his face was... well, it looked angry. Very angry. I looked over my shoulder, half-thinking that something just behind me was causing his scowl, but there was nothing. He was looking at me.

He halted in front of me and then completely surprised me by pulling me into a fierce quick hug that near squeezed the air from my lungs. But when he let go and stepped back his bearing had not changed.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he almost growled.

I stared at him blankly, unsure what was causing his agitation.

He looked away and shook his head. "Do you have any idea what I've been through?" he asked savagely, meeting my eyes once more. His expression then faltered slightly from angry to helpless. "I thought..." he shook his head once more, looking down.

"What? Bofur, what is the matter?" I demanded, my voice rising with concern and confusion.

He looked back to me, his eyes dull with remorse. "I thought you were dead."

"Oh... That." I responded softly.

"That!" Bofur exclaimed furiously, tossing his hands up.

I quickly took his hands and tried to calm him. "_That_... was not as bad as it looked. I'm fine." I smiled reassuringly but he yanked his hands out of my own and shot me a glare of daggers.

"Yeah. Well I'm not." he said coldly, then turned and strode back towards the group while I slowly followed, feeling rather off-put and shaken.

I made my way to Kili who was sitting on a rock nearby; his leg appeared to already have been bound. I knelt in front of him.

"Are you alright?" I asked worriedly, resting my chin on his other knee and looking up at his pale face.

"I'll be fine." he said lightly, and managed a grin that was almost not a grimace. I frowned at him, knowing he was most assuredly _not fine_, but he nonchalantly swiped a few strands of hair away from my face.

"We're going to have to braid this properly again." he remarked, eliciting a small smile from myself.

At that point the group suddenly became nervously quiet, and Kili and I both turned to see what their attention was fixed on. A man with a longbow had come ashore unbeknownst to us and was aiming it threatening at Ori. I moved aside as Kili slowly reached down and picked up a large stone. Dwalin suddenly leapt out in front of the man, brandishing a thick branch, but the archer released his arrow, sticking it right through the middle of the branch, luckily not through Dwalin himself. During that span of time Kili had stood up and was about to throw when the man turned and the stone was forced out of Kili's hand by another expertly shot arrow.

The dwarves hesitated when he drew his bow a third time and said "Do it again, and you're dead."

"He's from Laketown." I whispered to Kili who had sat back down. I recognized him; he had been friends with my father. "I believe his name is Bard."

"Go talk to him then." Kili whispered softly, nudging me slightly. I frowned and stayed put, not sure I'd be able to think quick enough to tell whatever appropriate lie the dwarves would see fit in order to keep their identities secret. Luckily Balin took charge of the situation, approaching the man cautiously and speaking in his most friendly voice.

"That barge over there, it wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?" Balin asked.

"What makes you think I will help you?" he asked, lowering his bow and beginning to roll a barrel onto the barge.

At that point I stood up and stepped in front of the others. Bard paused what he was doing as I made my way to the side of his watercraft. He frowned in confusion, looking from me to the dwarves.

"A woman." he stated gruffly as he stepped off to retrieve another barrel.

"A woman of Laketown." I said, lifting my chin a tad, causing him to pause and study me once more. "I am travelling home, while my companions..." I nodded back towards the others, "are merchants from the Blue Mountains... journeying to see their kin in the Iron Hills. They have seen me safely for many leagues thus far, but we need to cross the lake."

Bard looked at me critically. "Simple merchants, you say?"

I nodded, but Thorin stepped up and cut in. "We'll need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?"

Bard hesitated, and then moved to grab another barrel. He ran his hand over some of the damage inflicted on the wood from the fight and escape.

"I know where these barrels came from." he mused.

"What of it?" Thorin snapped.

"I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well." he began as he rolled it onto the barge. "No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He will see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."

"I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen." Balin piqued up after a subtle grunt from Thorin.

"Aye. But for that, you will need a smuggler." Bard casually explained, continuing to ready his vessel.

"For which we will pay double."

* * *

Some of the dwarves helped Bard load the remainder of the barrels while the rest of us gratefully piled onto the barge. Not much longer and we were setting off, though even with our haste I found I was not alone in casting subtle looks over my shoulder up the river to look for signs of the orcs. It was then I noticed the trees, their leaves hinted with hues of red and gold, and I suddenly felt puzzled by the crisp snap in the air. How much time had exactly passed since we entered Mirkwood at the end of July? The dwarves did not seem troubled, however, as the made for the bow - perhaps they had better internal clocks and still knew exactly what date it was... that would explain Thorin's seeming ability to be constantly aware of the length of time left until Durin's Day.

I lingered at the back to listen in on Bilbo's attempts at small talk with the bargeman, thinking I would soon step up and ask of certain things, such as the correct current date. I was also curious about any news from the town. Bilbo introduced himself, but Bard seemed in no mood for chatting, so I decided against re-introducing myself right then.

Instead I moved to the very back of the boat and looked over the ledge at the swirling lake we were gliding over. I was familiar with this water. Though it was currently cold and dark, I felt the warm feeling of nostalgia trickle through me and I smiled. I was almost home.

I glanced towards the front at the group of dwarves, wondering what would happen when we reached Laketown and they departed. Would I ever see them again? If they were successful, and Erebor was reclaimed, would I be welcome in their world?

My eyes settled on Bofur who stood at the bow. I was, to say the least, extremely confused. His actions and words often conflicted, and subsequently I still felt as if I was grasping at nothing. It shouldn't be so hard, yet I could not, despite my best efforts, simply drop my feelings for him.

I tried to remember the exact point when I had fallen in love with him. Wait...had I fallen in love? That was a very strong word, and a very serious realization...but I knew the truth in my heart, even though my better judgement implored me to ignore it. Why him? It was almost a mystery. I looked briefly at the others. Each one had their own strengths, and their own fair share of weaknesses. None of them could be considered quite normal, not by dwarven stereotypes, and especially not by human standards, but then neither could I at this point. If I returned to Bree with a companion only two thirds my size, dressed in a mixture of elven and mannish clothing, and as well armed as I was apt to travel these days, I would be stranger than any of the company.

Why him indeed. I looked briefly at Kili and Fili and had to admit they were very pleasing to the eye; young and proud and fierce, with their wavy locks of gold and ebony. I glanced over Thorin; noble, strong, even majestic in a sense. Yet then I looked back to Bofur, who, by all appearances sake was far less princely, and not kingly by any standard. Instead he looked like the kind of man who was gentle to women, and kind to children, and who would rather laugh than complain. He, who showed me great kindness when others looked at me with scorn and distrust, and who treated me as an equal. All of this made him far more attractive in my eyes. In fact his large list of admiral qualities had made it difficult _not _to love him.

So when did it happen? It was not at first sight, I knew that for sure. He had been kind to me, and charming, but at first I felt we had simply grown to be unlikely friends. I thought back to Rivendell where our friendship deepened and when I no longer thought he looked like a funny little dwarf, but instead saw him as a comforting and genteel man. That's also when the flirting began, but for all I knew he could have been the type to flirt with any woman. Some men do. I didn't know. Either way, it was harmless.

Maybe it was when we were parted in the mountains where I began to realize that being separated from him was painful, and I worried for his safety above my own. Or perhaps it was after, when he helped me through the pain of my injuries... Or when he kissed me by the lake. I couldn't pin it down, so it must have been gradual. Now, however, I felt it. I truly felt the sheer agony of love when I looked at him.

I was so caught up in my intense and rude staring, my features turned to a frown I didn't know I was wearing, that I didn't even notice when Balin sidled over to me after he finished speaking with Bard.

He cleared his throat politely when I failed to acknowledge his presence - so caught up in my musings I was. My head snapped towards the unexpected noise, however, and I grinned a sheepish apology when I saw him standing before me.

"Are you well, lass?" He asked, peering up at me thoughtfully.

I nodded, unsure how else to explain myself.

"You were quite deep in thought there," he continued, glancing over his shoulder to where I had been obviously staring. I remained silent but tried to arrange my face into a neutral expression, though I apparently couldn't help but quickly gaze towards Bofur once more before I caught myself and looked away guiltily.

Balin was annoyingly perceptive however. He sighed and grabbed my elbow, leading me towards a chest on which he sat upon and indicated for me to sit as well.

He seemed to seriously consider what to say next as he looked at me, his eyes were kind but a slight frown lingered around his mouth.

"I have to thank you, for earlier," he began, "I owe you a life debt, and I will do all I can to repay it."

I tried to object but he shook his head then patted my hand before he continued.

"You should know that I have no ill-will towards you, or your kind," he said carefully. "In fact I hold you in quite high esteem, that's why I wanted to offer to you some advice, welcome or not, it may help you to avoid some... distress."

I looked at him seriously, anxiously wondering where this conversation was leading.

He began again, shifting in his seat slightly. "The thing you have to understand lass, is that dwarves seldom marry. Many dwarf men are so enthralled with their craft or work that they have no desire to start a family; often they have such love of gold that no woman could sway their heart. And dwarf women are sparse, and fickle. Not all will take on a husband, even if sought after. Others pledge themselves to dwarf men that are unavailable, or unwilling, yet these women will have no other, and will pursue their sole interest until the end of their days."

I listened with growing discomfort as he spoke, wanting to cut him off but not trusting my voice to do so. I looked pointedly at me feet, gritting my teeth with embarrassment and shame.

"We are a long-lived race... and we do not idly marry, as when we do it is for life." He paused for a moment, then stood up and looked down at me. I continued to be innately interested in looking at my boots. "If a mate is lost," he continued quietly, "then no other is ever taken. It is strictly unheard of. Bofur has experienced a rare tragedy. Dwarves do not fall to sickness or disease, so it is rare for a dwarf woman to lose her life so young. But he will not, he cannot, pledge himself to another, that much is clear."

"I understand." I managed to vocalize, my voice so soft I wondered if he even heard me, but I felt him lay a hand on my shoulder.

"You are a good woman." Balin said. "I wish you much happiness and a worthy husband... but I fear you will not find it where you are looking. Even if things were different, dwarves do not pledge themselves to... non-dwarves."

There it was, he finally said it, the true root of the problem. I nodded, trying to keep my anger in check. As it was, I was nearly shaking from it. I willed him to leave and let my breath out when I saw him turn, listening to his footsteps grow quiet as he returned to the others. I knew he had not been trying to be malicious, but I had never before felt so scorned for being human, for being the _wrong_ race.

I spent the next half hour digging myself into a pit of frustration and despair until I eventually decided I did not want to arrive and reunite with my mother while in the blackest mood of my life, so I took a deep breath and tried to cheer up. I was almost home after all.

* * *

Many of the dwarves did not seem to sleep that night, but instead kept watch at the front of the barge as Bard slowly steered through the dark, moonlit waters.

I, however, curled up at the back and somehow managed to get a few hours rest - at that point I was quite accustomed to sleeping on hard, cold surfaces. After getting up and while stretching out my stiff muscles, I began to hear some discord rising among the dwarves at the front of the barge. As much as I was still embarrassed by my talk with Balin, my curiosity won over and I walked towards to the group. Balin was sitting in the middle of them, piling gold coins into stacks in front of him.

"Gloin, come on. Give us what you have." Thorin urged.

The red-haired dwarf huffed indignantly but eventually reached into his coat and then tossed over his purse. Balin emptied it into his hand, counting them out.

"We have a problem." He said as he neatly stacked the last pile. "We're still ten coins short."

Thorin looked at each dwarf, all of them shaking their heads.

"That's everything." Dori said. "It's all we have." The others grumbled and nodded.

"We have been bled dry by this venture." Gloin added with a scowl. "And what have we seen for our investment?"

Thorin took a step away to the railing while the rest squabbled, and from my vantage point I noticed him look down at a large ring he wore, clearly at conflict with himself whether or not to give it up. His eyes dropped to the waters below, his fingers idly toying with the ring while he studied his reflection. I studied it as well, and for the first time since meeting the company I saw uncertainty in the bold prince. I desperately wished I still had my coins from the troll-hoard, with them they might have had enough.

Thorin sighed and moved to remove the ring when I suddenly remembered I still did have something: a treasure that meant far less to me than what was likely a family heirloom Thorin was about to give up. I quickly undid the necklace that had somehow survived the journey thus far.

It was all I had left in the world.

I worried for a moment about my livelihood, but I still had my family. They would take me in until I had a means to support myself. Perhaps Thorin would even repay me if he was successful in reclaiming his home. It was said that Erebor contained vast hoards of gold...

"Wait." I said stepping in front of Thorin before he could turn back to the group to give Balin his ring. "Will this help?" I dangled the piece of jewellery for a moment, the light reflecting brilliantly of its surface and the facets of the stones that adorned it. I could hear some low muttering around me as I relinquished the exquisite item, setting it down beside the coins.

Balin raised his eyebrows as he picked it up and inspected it. "This is a fine piece. White silver inlaid with diamond. Looks to be of elvish make. It would fetch a fair price." He looked up at me with a frown. "But we cannot expect you to part with it."

"Would it cover the rest?" I asked firmly, ignoring his last remark.

Balin stared at me for a moment but I kept my gaze neutral, eventually he nodded slightly.

"Take it then." I said, moving to step away and ignoring the dubious looks from him and all the others. "Honestly, it means nothing to me."

As I removed myself from the throng of excited dwarves Thorin caught my eye, causing me to halt my steps. His stare was at first gentle, kinder than ever before, but then the familiar doubt began to corrupt his gratitude. I could see the warring emotions play out clear as day, on one hand wanting to thank me, on the other wondering why I would do such a thing, what my ulterior motive was.

He was saved from himself and his choice though, for suddenly he was no longer staring at me, but through me. Beyond me. Northwards. He stepped past me without a word and crossed to the far gunwale, while the others began to take notice and rise as well. I turned, and saw it rising up before me. Their home, and the ever present landmark of my childhood.

The Lonely Mountain.

* * *

I left the dwarves to their gawking and stepped up beside Bard, deciding I should not be so timid with fellow Laketowners, even the grim ones.

"What area of Laketown are you from?" I asked politely, though I got a suspicious look even so.

"Middle-east side." Bard replied curtly.

"Oh," I nodded, feeling a touch of excitement start to grow. "Then you might know Sarabelle and Osric, they reside middle-south?"

Bard glanced at me. "Aye, I knew them."

I paused and my stomach did a flip. "Knew?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from jumping a few octaves.

"They both died a year ago from a sickness... It took many lives."

Time stopped for me. I visibly staggered back, the air leaving my lungs in shock. I shook my head, not believing.

"No." I whispered. "That cannot be true. Are you sure it was them? Are you certain?"

Bard stepped towards me, his features even more grim. He studied me while I looked at him imploringly, waiting for him to take back his words, but when he did not I felt my eyes begin to prickle.

A look of realization, then sadness, crossed over Bard's face. "You're her daughter." He stated slowly. He then whispered my name as he remembered who I was. I nodded slightly, still trying to understand what I had just heard. He reached out and placed a sympathetic hand on my arm. "I'm sorry." He said huskily. "I did not recognize you. It should not have been me to tell you this news, especially with no warning." He shook his head sadly.

"An illness?" I asked dumbly.

"Aye. It swept through the town quickly. It must have been brought from a trader. We had no cure... It took my wife as well. It was a dark year."

I looked up at Bard and saw the same raw pain in his face that I'm sure was reflected in my own. "I'm very sorry." I whispered, vaguely remembering the kind woman to whom he was married.

He tried to manage a small smile then straightened up and took the tiller once more.

"She spoke of you often." He added while looking ahead. "She was a good woman, your mother."

I felt my composure begin to break so I backed away then turned and quickly walked to the back of the boat once more. I had just barely grasped the railing when the sobs began to rake my body. I slumped over it and covered my mouth to keep from crying out.

I was oblivious to the fact that in this time Bard had tentatively approached the dwarves, and tried to explain in so many words that their 'companion' might need some 'aid ' as he unknowingly told her the worst of news. And how they had all looked to back to see me pathetically clinging the gunwale, my shoulders shaking as I silently cried, and how they then awkwardly looked at the each other, as if debating what to do - if they should anything at all.

I was so far detached that I did not register a hand stroke my shoulder. My head was buried in my arm, my life scattered. I doubt I would have even noticed had the barge suddenly been boarded by the remaining orc pack that still hunted us, nor would I have had the energy to really care.

"There now, _ghivashel_, come here." A soft voice said next to my ear. I felt a tug on my shoulder and then arms wrap around me as I turned around. I slumped forward, wrapping my own arms around Bofur's neck, and I cried into his shoulder. He supported my weight and whispered words of comfort.

"I'm too late." I said incoherently through the sobs. "I didn't even get to say goodbye." He simply hugged me tighter as I began crying harder. Eventually he pulled me over to the chest I had sat on earlier with Balin and gently eased us down onto it. No longer able to hide my face I leaned forward and covered it with my hands as I tried to stem the grief.

I felt him begin to stroke my back and eventually the raking sobs turned into small hiccups, yet I kept my face in my hands until I felt one of his own wrap around my wrist and pull gently all the while assuring me it was alright. I let them drop but stayed hunched forward, looking down as hot tears continued to stream down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry." I said, trying to keep my voice under control. "I hate to cry in front of you all." I wiped my tears with the palms of my hands, and then a handkerchief appeared at the corner of my eye. I grabbed it and cleaned up my face as best I could before I sat up a bit.

"Do dwarf women cry?" I asked, a small hiccup breaking interrupting me half-way through, I almost grinned at that.

"Aye. Everyone cries." Bofur gently responded and I finally decided to look at him. I slowly made my way up to his eyes, when I found them I saw they were full of concern.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, taking my hands in his. "If I could take the pain away I would, darlin', you know I would."

I nodded and looked away as my eyes welled up once more. It took me a few moments, struggling to keep my composure, before I was able to look back at him.

"What will I do now?" I whispered, trying to swallow back the keening I felt threatening to escape. "I have nothing. No plan...No family... _No one_." Tears fell freely once more but I made no move to wipe them.

"You have us." Bofur said softly, sliding his hand under my chin and tilting it up. His eyes locked on mine. "You have me." He said more firmly.

I suddenly heard Bard order something in an urgent whisper. Bofur must have caught the actual demand as he squeezed my hand quickly then stood up. But I grabbed his forearm and forced him to turn and face me. Forgetting everything Balin had just told me, forgetting we were on a barge with everyone else, forgetting his past reluctance around me - I forgot it all, grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him down to press my lips against his. Tears still wetting my cheeks, I kissed him gently but without shame, needing to forget, for just that moment. And for that moment nothing else existed.

Then the moment was over. I said nothing and refused to meet his eyes as I slumped back down to my seat, afraid of what he would do, or say, afraid of what may be written across his face.

Luckily we were both spared further response as Bard took a few steps towards us and urged Bofur towards the barrels.

"Quickly! You must hide" he insisted.

Bofur looked at me one last time, clearly wishing to say something more, but there was no time. He frowned slightly then turned to go find a barrel to climb into. I looked at Bard inquisitively, moving to get up, wondering if he meant for me to stash away as well.

"I think you're fine there." He said, motioning me to stay seated before going to check that the dwarves were all out of sight.

He made dock at a station outside the main borders of Laketown, told me to wait and whispered to the dwarves to keep quiet. I watched him debark and go to speak to one of the dockhands. After a few minutes I saw him shake hands with the man. Shortly thereafter, the dockhand readied a large load of fish and I realized the bargain Bard must have struck. I rushed to the front to the barge and subtly peered in the barrels until I found Bofur's.

"Bofur. Give me your hat." I urged, holding my hand out as casually as possible over the barrel.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Please, if you have ever trusted me, just give me your hat." I urged, shaking my outstretched hand in impatience. "Quick!"

He finally took it off, holding it up for me to take. I grabbed it swiftly, hiding it behind my back as I stepped away. Not a moment later the enormous consignment of fish was spilled upon the barrels, filling up whatever space the dwarves didn't occupy and then some. When the last fish was dropped the dwarves were not visible in the slightest, the barrels topped well past the brim. I began to hear muffled noises of disgust as Bard boarded and pushed the boat away from the dock. He looked at me, a small amused smirk on his usually grim face, and I couldn't help but smile slightly.

After a few minutes I could make out the tollgate ahead and felt a pang of worry settle in my gut. I was almost home, but would it still feel like home without my family? Even after all the years of wanting to return, of dreaming of the day, now I wasn't so sure. I would soon have to face the decision of what to do to support myself, and as it was, I didn't even know where my next meal would come from. What if I ended up a beggar on the street? What if I was forced to leave? Would the dwarves help if I asked it of them? I knew Bofur would do what he could for me. I could always count on him if my situation became desperate, as while many dwarves were selfish, he was selfless. Yet would I be able to deal with the shame of running to them, begging for aid because I was too naive to help myself? And what would happen when they reached Erebor? Would they even still be alive after entering the mountain?

Bard snapped me out of my reverie as he swiftly kicked the side of a barrel and hushed the dwarves.

Ready or not, I was about to be reunited with the world of men.


	19. The World of Men

"Halt! Goods inspection. Papers, please." The gatekeeper shouted, opening his office door and stepping out, hand outstretched. "Oh, it's you, Bard." he exclaimed in a friendly manner upon seeing the bargeman.

"Morning, Percy." Bard remarked.

"Anything to declare?" Percy asked.

"Nothing," Bard replied, grabbing out his papers and handing them over, "but that I am cold and tired, and ready for home."

"You and me both." The gatekeeper said, then paused, leaning to the side and peering past Bard as he finally noticing me sitting at the back trying to blend in. "And who is this young woman?" he asked, not unkindly but his eyes squinting with suspicion.

"Ah, her charges had arranged for me meet me them at the river," Bard began, stepping up onto the platform and grabbing the gatekeeper's arm. He then spoke quietly into his ear, no doubt explaining who exactly I was. Percy's eyes snapped to me for a moment, then he frowned, looked away and nodded sadly.

He proceeded to step into his office to stamp Bard's papers.

"Here we are. All in order." he said happily when through, handing them back. Yet before Bard could take them a sauntering, ill-favoured looking man stepped out and swiped the documents out of Percy's grasp.

"Not so fast." the man said, sneering slightly and reading them over.

I could barely believe my eyes when I got a good look at him. It was Alfrid: The greasy little bad-tempered boy that none of the kids would play with. He was prone to running and taddling on everyone for anything, oftentimes weaving intricate lies to get us in trouble. I remember one occasion being lashed on the wrists when he told the baker I had stolen a pastry, when it was him who had taken it and shoved it into my hands, claiming it was a present. Of course I was caught 'red-handed', icing spread over my fingers. He was a snitch, and a cheat, and I couldn't understand why he was here now, acting as if he had some kind of authority.

"Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm." Alfrid remarked, gazing over the barge, and then back to the papers. "Only, they're not empty, are they, Bard? If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman." He stepped forward and grabbed one of the large fish from the top of the nearest barrel, holding it up to Bard.

"That's none of your business." Bard replied, standing very still.

"Wrong." Alfrid retorted. "It's the Master's business, which makes it _my_ business."

"Oh come on, Alfrid, have a heart. People need to eat!" Bard half-pleaded, clearly at his wit's end.

I tried to hash together a plan, and an idea began to take shape, if only I could pull it off. I quickly undid my hair, pulling it over my shoulders. I stood up, picking up Bofur's hat but holding it at my side.

Alfrid motioned some guards forward. "These fish are illegal."

"Excuse me?" I spoke up, suddenly stepping off the barge and in front of Bard so that Alfrid could see me. "Alfrid, is that you? I can't believe it." I smiled brightly but he just stared at me blankly. "You may not remember me, but I could never have forgotten you, the boy who would steal me treats! You look well, Alfrid." I said sincerely, trying desperately not to look at his obnoxious uni-brow.

He squinted at me a moment longer, his mouth hanging open, but then he grinned and tilted his head. "Well, well." he said, stating my name in disbelief. "So you did manage to come back after all." He looked me up and down. "The years have changed you." he added with smirk.

I pretended to act coy under his gaze, smiling shyly. "I apologize for my travel-worn appearance; I would like to have met you in... more appropriate attire."

Bard hung back, looking back and forth at us. I shot him a quick glance, hoping that he understood I was bluffing. I looked back to Alfrid and smiled once more.

"You're working for the Master now?" I asked, with mock admiration.

He nodded and smiled a broad toothy smile. I tried not to grimace at the sight of his unclean teeth. "I see to all of his administrative duties when it comes to managing this town." he explained rather proudly.

"That makes sense; you were always the smart one." I fawned, leaning forward and placing my hand on his arm for a moment. "Listen, I have some matters I think you can assist me with. I wasn't sure who to bring them to, but it seems like you are the _most_ qualified person I could speak with." I looked into his eyes intently, then smiled and looked away.

I shot another glance at Bard then took Alfrid's arm and led him a few steps away from the barge. I leaned in closer than necessary and spoke more in his ear. "As I'm sure you're aware of, my mother has passed away... I'm interested in my family estate. I am the sole heir after all."

Alfrid nodded but then paused and looked back towards Bard and the illegal barrels of fish. Before he could order the guards to do anything I faked a sob and threw my arms around his neck, holding my breath against the rancid smell his coat emitted as I pushed my body flush against his. He staggered backwards in surprise.

"I'm sorry." I said in a breathless voice into his neck. "I just don't know what to do! If I can't get that house, I will have to leave again, and I've missed home so much." I pulled away slightly and reached up a hand to place on his cheek, keeping my eyes cast down to hopefully hide the revulsion I felt being so close to him. "Can you help me, Alfrid?" I whispered.

He cleared his throat, stiffly extracting himself from my embrace - much to my relief. "Ah, yes, I am certain we can get the proper documents in order." he said, then glared at Bard. "My attention is needed elsewhere Bargeman, lucky for you. Watch yourself though. I know where you live." He then made a sweeping gesture to the guards. "Leave them."

The gates opened, and the barge coasted into motion once more. "It's a small town, Alfrid; everyone knows where everyone lives." Bard responded as his vessel entered the town. Alfrid scowled and waved a dismissive hand at him.

"Follow me then." he shot at me as he turned and began to stamp off.

Bard flashed me a small smile of thanks, but I could linger no longer and rushed to catch up to Alfrid.

* * *

We spent a good hour in the archives as he filed through drawers, sifting through countless old rolls of parchment.

"Ah, here it is." he pronounced finally, spreading out a yellowed document. "Your father's will." I got up and looked over his hunched shoulder at it.

"What does it say?" I asked, too anxious to properly read the small script.

Alfrid scanned it. "Looks like you _are_ fully entitled to their property." he said somewhat sceptically.

I smiled. "I knew you would be able to help. Can you bring me there now?"

"I'll need to fetch the keys from the vault; the house has been under safe-holding by the township since your family's death. You're lucky it hasn't been auctioned off."

Soon we were weaving through the maze of pathways towards my childhood home. The docking under my feet was comforting and familiar... but I was no longer used to the smell. The overwhelming odour of rotting fish and tar was almost affronting and I swallowed hard against it. Even so, I eagerly looked around, trying to take in everything. It was all exactly how I remembered it, nothing seemed to have changed.

Yet that was not quite true, the harder I looked, the more I noticed it. The decay. The deterioration. Shingles were rotting, colours had faded, dock boards were crumbling. And the people, did they always look so impoverished? No one smiled, even if I smiled at them, they were stooped and busy and foul. Had it always been like this?

"That is an interesting hat." Alfrid remarked, looking down at it at my side.

I lifted it up to show him better. "Yes, it is." I said with a smile. "It's not mine though."

He didn't seem interested enough to ask anything more about it.

We came to a stop in front of the door and Alfrid handed me the set of keys.

"Alfrid, what is there for employment in this town?" I asked, leaning up against the door frame, stalling. I was suddenly nervous about going in.

"That depends." he said. "What are your skill sets?"

I frowned. "Well, I can fish." I began. I was cut short when Alfrid snorted, loudly.

"_Everyone_ here can fish." he sneered. "Besides, the lake is almost spent."

I chewed the inside of my cheek, then when I could think of nothing more I hung my head in defeat. "I don't know then." I finally admitted.

"The tavern might be hiring-" Alfrid offered, but this time I cut him off.

"No. I will never work in a tavern again." I said sharply.

"Then it seems your options are to starve, or find a husband to support you, and quickly I might add. We don't tolerate beggars in this town." Alfrid said coldly.

"Well I don't suppose you can procure me a list of eligible bachelors then?" I snapped, moving to unlock my door.

"No... But the Master has expressed interest in finding a bride."

"What?" I asked, turning back to look at him in disbelief.

"I can set up a meeting for you," he continued, ignoring my rather horrified expression. "Who knows, maybe you'll actually impress him, and then you'll want for nothing. I think he always fancied your mother, and you do look like her now."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"What about you then?" I asked, not at all interested, but curious as to whether or not some poor girl had been saddled with him.

He smiled lazily, again gracing me with his awful teeth. "I'm married to my work." he said almost apologetically. "I wouldn't have the time."

"I see." I said through my teeth as I turned the lock and pushed open the door. "Oh, Alfrid, what day is it?" I asked as an afterthought before I stepped inside.

He stared at me a moment as if I were mad. "Lost track while travelling, did you? It's the 22nd of September."

I forcibly kept my face calm even though I was shocked to learn that we had spent nearly two months either lost in Mirkwood or locked in the elven dungeons. I nodded politely. "Thank you. If you'll excuse me, I really should clean up."

"Yes, do, and I shall inform the Master of your arrival. He might even call on you this evening; I'll have a message sent."

I tried to smile and nod but mostly just grimaced and hastened inside, shutting the door behind me with a quick snap.

* * *

It was dark, and cold. I took a few tentative steps forward into the room, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light coming in from the dirty windows. It wasn't a large house by any means. The main floor consisted of a fireplace and sitting area and along the side wall were two off-branching rooms, a tiny bedroom and a bathing room. On the opposite wall was the cooking area, with a few cupboards, hanging cast iron pots and pans, and an old iron stove. Nearby was small square table with four chairs for dining. There was also a narrow staircase at the back that led upstairs to the main bedroom, where my parent's used to sleep.

I walked to the fireplace, the floorboards creaking as I did so, and gently set down Bofur's hat to check the woodbox. I was pleased to see it was still full with cut logs and on the mantle I found a match. Soon the chill and loneliness was leaving the house as a fire crackled happily in the hearth. I spent the next while tidying up, which in some backwards fashion helped me keep my mind off what I was actually doing and why. I swept and pulled the sheets off the furniture, wiped down the surfaces thick with dust, shook the rugs off outside and took stock of everything in the house. The pantry still held some old jars of preserves; at least I would not starve immediately.

When finished I spent over an hour boiling water and filling the bath. It was painstaking work, but I was used to it, having done it a few times a day at the Bree Inn. While soaking, I wondered if the dwarves were at Bard's. Would they leave without saying goodbye? I decided I would visit his place that evening to see if they were there. I took my sweet time in washing, even cleaning under my fingernails, a luxury I had not had time to do lately. Even more luxurious than that, I had found a razor in the bathroom and was finally able to render my legs smooth once more after weeks of neglect. The sun was nearly setting by the time I was through.

After drying off I wrapped a towel around myself and tiptoed into my old bedroom. My chest still contained a few outfits, but they were all from when I was little. I ran my hands over a small dress, nostalgia burning through me, then left before I fell into memories.

I eyed the stairs, then set my jaw and climbed them, entering my parent's chambers. I wandered to my mother's wardrobe and swung it open. I carefully separated the old garments, looking longingly at each, before finally pulling out one of the finest she owned; a dark scarlet dress with golden embroidery along the wide-set collar, and about the bottoms of the sleeves. It had been a wedding gift; we could never have afforded such an outfit. I hugged it to my chest, pain lancing through me as I remembered her wearing it, only on the rarest of occasions, and when she did she would be glowing and my father looked upon her with love and pride. I gently set it down and looked through the bottom drawer until I found the matching underskirt, a wide belt, and even a pair of shoes that fit well enough.

I studied myself in her standing mirror. The dress fit, with the aid of the belt to cinch it more tightly around my waist. I was thinner than she was after years of hard labour and the strenuous journey. I had brushed out my blonde hair and was grateful to finally be able to keep it down; the locks with their gentle wave tumbling down to the level of my breasts.

I was considering making my way to Bard's when I heard shouting from outside. I sprinted to the window and looked out to see a group of people whisking by below. I undid the latch and pushed the window open. Cold snowflakes melted on my warm skin as I leaned outside.

"What's happening?" I shouted causing an older woman to slow and look up until she spotted me.

"Dwarves!" she exclaimed incredulously. "Taken by the guards apparently. They are being brought before the Master right now."

I cursed under my breath, slamming the window shut and pulled out a coat from the wardrobe before sprinting downstairs. I got to the door, then remembered Bofur's hat. I quickly retrieved it, then ran outside and followed the people to the town central.

The crowd was thick by the time I arrived and I couldn't see any of the dwarves through the mass of bodies in front of me, held back by the lining of guards that circled my companions as well.

The door of the mansion suddenly swung open and the Master himself bustled outside. As with Alfrid, the years had definitely not been kind to him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded loudly while still pulling on his coat.

"We caught 'em stealing weapons, sire." one of the guards replied.

"Ah. Enemies of the state, then." the Master declared.

"This is a bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire." Alfrid added, and I rolled my eyes while trying to shove my way closer to the front.

"Hold your tongue." I heard the vicious accented voice of Dwalin say, causing the Master to raise his eyebrows. "You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!"

The people beside me started whispering and fidgeting, and I was able to push my way up to just behind the guards, where I could see Thorin standing in the middle.

"We are the dwarves of Erebor." Thorin said loud enough for all to hear, causing even greater restlessness amidst the crowd as people craned to see. "We have come to reclaim our homeland."

The Master looked around almost worriedly as his townsfolk became increasingly tense.

"I remember this town and the great days of old." Thorin began, slowly turning, earnestly addressing the people, and the more he spoke, the more excitement began to hum through the crowd, he knew exactly what to say to them. "This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the centre of all trade in the North. I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

At this the group erupted into cheers and clapping, I smiled, especially at the perturbed face of the Master when Thorin turned to garner his response.

"Death!" A voice shouted from somewhere behind me. Bard then stepped forward, gently moving me aside as he stepped past me and entered the ring of guards. He stopped in front of Thorin. "That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

"You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this," Thorin said, he took a moment, taking a few steps towards Bard before he continued. "If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain." he said quietly, and then his voice rose over the excited din of the townsfolk. "You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"

After the applause finally subsided, Alfrid spoke up.

"Why should we take you at your word, eh? We know nothing about you." The crowd quieted immediately and I felt a slight tension spread through it, I bit my lip nervously. "Who here can vouch for your character?" Alfrid asked.

Quiet, nervous murmuring began as no one immediately spoke up. I huffed, then grabbed my skirts and shoved past the guards.

"I can." I said loudly, stepping into the clearing beside Bard and trying not to feel nervous as over a hundred nearby faces all snapped to land on me. Thorin slowly turned to look at me, his expression only showing the smallest hint of gratitude and relief, but it was enough. I smiled at him then lifted my chin to the Master.

"I am one of you, born and raised in Laketown." I said, projecting my voice as best I could. "And I have travelled far with these dwarves, through great danger. If it weren't for them, I would not have made it home." I turned and looked at the dwarves fondly, my gaze resting a moment longer on Bofur's, he grinned at me and I continued, looking back towards the Master. "This town is a shadow of what it was; it's on the brink of ruin, soon we will fade entirely. We are a proud and strong people, but we _need_ help." I lowered my gaze back to the leader of the company. "And if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word," I said with finality, "then he will keep it."

I smiled, my heart pounding in my chest, as the crowd was exulted once more. Thorin looked at me softly, slightly bowing his head in appreciation. I surged with pride at that.

The moment, however, was broken once more as Bard began shouting. "All of you! Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?! Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"

"Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame." The Master admonished, pointing his finger like a teacher scolding a classroom. "Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale,_ your_ ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!"

I looked to Bard and saw his face fall in shame as he looked away.

"It's true, sire. We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark." Alfrid added in bad taste.

Bard strode forward and looked down at Thorin angrily. "You have no right, no right to enter that mountain!"

"I have the only right." Thorin growled, looking up at him with equal intensity. He then turned away from Bard, looking up to the town's authority. "I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?"

A stillness fell as the people watched with quiet anticipation.

"What say you?" Thorin demanded when the Master failed to reply.

The Master paused and thought for several seconds, likely more to be dramatic, finally he smiled, pointing his finger at Thorin.

"I say unto you... welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!" he yelled, opening his arms and causing the crowd to erupt in cheers. I noticed that Bard, however, remained silent, glaring as Thorin climbed a few steps and turned to face the excited townsfolk.

"Let us celebrate!" The Master proclaimed, slapping his hands together. "Alfrid, have ale and food brought to the hall for our guests! And let there be music!"

Alfrid did not look entirely pleased about being delegated work at this late hour, but he bobbed his head and swaggered back into the mansion.

I hung back as the crowd thinned out, many going home, some following Thorin and the Master inside to begin the festivities.

Bofur hung back as well. Our eyes met and he beamed at me. I took a few small steps towards him, unable to help but smile as well.

"You look..." he began when I came to a stop in front of him, his eyes bright and his voice low as he studied my face, "lovelier than all the gold in the world." he finished.

I grinned and looked down, then my gaze settled on what I was carrying and I lifted it up in front of me.

"Here. I kept it safe for you." I said, holding out his hat for him. "I promise I never put it on."

He took it from my hands and looked down at it, his smile somewhat sad.

"Well that's a shame." he said after a few moments, causing me to frown in confusion. He looked back up at me, his expression brightening. "It would probably look good on you."

My jaw dropped as he swiftly reached up and placed it on my head. I felt the soft wool fall down over my ears and forehead, then droop over my eyes. It smelt pleasantly of leather. He laughed.

"Well, maybe it's a little big." He raised his arm to tip it up, then his hand wrapped around my neck and he pulled me down into a kiss. I smiled against his lips.

"I'm sorry." he said when he let me go.

"For what?" I asked, taking off his cosy hat and placing it atop his head, in its proper spot.

He took my hand, looking up at me. "For being an arse. I haven't been fair to you." He slowly kissed the back of my hand, his soft moustache tickling my skin.

"...and for ruining your hair." he grinned up at me from over my hand.

I smiled and shook my head, a hand subconsciously lifting to brush down any stray strands of my hair back into order. "Bofur, it's alright."

"No, it's not." he said, "I've been trying to ignore what I feel for you," he smiled, "but it's impossible."

"Then stop ignoring it." I said, raising my eyebrows at him and smiling shyly.

"Come. Let's join the party." he said with a grin, not letting go of my hand and leading me up the steps into the Master's mansion.

We stepped inside and proceeded to follow the obvious sounds of merry-making, yet as we neared the end of the hallway our way was suddenly blocked by a large girth.

"So this is the one then?" The Master asked, looking at me critically.

"Indeed sire, she's the one I told you about." Alfrid said, sauntering into view as well.

"You're quite right, Alfrid, the resemblance is -" The Master paused a moment, uncomfortably swallowing and patting his chest before continuing "-striking." He finished, then looked down, seeming to notice Bofur for the first time. "Ah, dwarf, you should join the others. Alfrid, show our guest to the dining hall will you." he added, dismissively waving his hand in front of Bofur's face. Bofur made no move to follow and looked up at me questioningly.

"I'll join you in a moment." I said quietly, releasing his hand as Alfrid impatiently shifted his weight from foot to foot.

When they were out of sight the Master took my arm and began to direct me towards a large desk.

"Let me be one of the first to welcome you home. Truly, our humble town is made better by your presence." he droned as he forced me to take irritatingly slow steps. "You're mother was quite the woman, you know. And you, my dear, are even more beautiful than she ever was. That dress was my gift to her, you know. I'd always imagined she'd wear it at our wedding, though... pity."

I frowned, and honestly didn't quite know how to respond as he released my arm and shuffled to the back of the desk. He sat down heavily on his chair then pulled out a decanter and two crystal glasses.

"Oh, I can just grab a drink-" I began, trying to refuse but he interrupted immediately.

"Nonsense! All you'll find out there is cheap swill! You deserve something finer. This," he said, handing me a full glass of amber liquid, "this is a drink worthy of kings. Taste it. What do you think?" He asked excitedly, twirling the end of his crooked, thin moustache.

It took an enormous amount of effort to keep my face composed as I took a large drink of the brandy. The Master stared at me expectantly so I nodded my head and tried to smile.

"Very- very good." I managed to say. "Thank you, you are most gracious."

"Interesting company you've kept lately." he said after draining his own glass. "I'm sure it must be a relief to be back among your own kind?"

Again I didn't reply and instead took another drink.

"Listen, if you should need anything, anything at all, I want you to come straight to me." he continued, pouring himself one more splash and looking at me rather intensely. "Understand? I would very much like to see more of you."

I managed to down the rest of my brandy and set the glass down on the desk with a heavy clunk.

"Thank you, sir." I stammered, taking a few steps back but trying to smile politely. "That would be... You are too kind. If you'll excuse me, I should take my leave soon. I'm quite weary from travel, you understand."

"Yes. Yes of course." he said, heaving himself up and coming around to stand in front of me. He grabbed my hand before I could hide it behind my back and brought it to his mouth, kissing it sloppily.

"Right, thank you." I said, pulling my arm away from him rather quickly when he was through. "I am just going to speak with my, ah, travel guard for a few moments. Good night, sir." I fumbled through a quick curtsey then swept past him in the direction Alfrid and Bofur had taken.

I found the dwarves already well into drinks, unceremoniously grabbing food off the Master's well-stocked tables. A fiddler was playing a lively tune at the front of the hall that could be barely heard over the loud and excited voices and laughter of both dwarves and humans. I approached the familiar faces, trying to shake off the slimy feeling caused by the Master. Bofur stood up and came to greet me, mug still in hand.

"What was that about?" he asked, noting my distasteful expression.

I frowned. "It was nothing." I shuddered slightly. "May I?" I asked, indicating his tankard of beer. He wordlessly handed it to me and I tipped it back, forcing myself to chug it all. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and shoved the empty mug back into his outstretched hand as he stared up at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. I smiled.

"Well, come on, let's celebrate then." I said cheerily, leading him back over to the rest of the company and settling in.

Ori brought both Bofur and I fresh drinks after we squeezed onto the bench.

Thorin caught my eye than raised his mug. "I owe you my thanks - we _all_ owe you our thanks." he said gruffly. The others quieted down to listen, looking at me curiously, though I was too busy staring at Thorin in shock to notice. "You were never part of this company; I showed you no special kindness, and still you proved your loyalty many times over. The bargeman informed us you saved our backs at the gate, then again this evening." he paused, his light blue eyes holding my own. "I am sorry for not treating you with respect." he added, his expression growing kinder. "We were lucky to have you with us, and we are in your debt."

He then took a drink, and the others raised their mugs to me and drank as well. I was completely flustered, my cheeks burning. I looked beside me to see Bofur smiling at me.

"Maybe he's warming up to me... about time." I mumbled to him with a grin.

I felt Bofur's hand grasp my thigh under the table.

"You deserved his praise, love." he said, squeezing my leg. "Though I don't know if I approve of you flirting your way out of problem situations for us."

"Trust me; it wasn't very pleasant on my end either." I remarked with a laugh.

I helped myself to a bit of the food while the others focused more on emptying the drink barrels. The volume of the room continued to rise and a few of the dwarves were becoming quite rowdy. Dwalin began arm wrestling with any who would challenge him. Food was beginning to be tossed around a bit more enthusiastically; the table was becoming slick with spilt drink.

I watched as Nori's fist was slammed down, Dwalin winning yet another match.

"Arm wrestle me." I said to Bofur with a smile, scooting away from him a bit to lift my elbow onto the table, but he made no move to grasp my hand. "Come on!" I urged, looking at him provocatively.

"Alright lass, but it's not really a fair fight."

I snorted as he took my hand and positioned himself.

"Go." Bofur said.

I put every ounce of strength I had into trying to move his arm, but it didn't budge. I held my breath and thought angry thoughts, giving it everything I had, my arm straining against his, my muscles nearly shaking with the effort of it. Nothing.

"Go." Bofur egged on lazily. I let out my breath in a huff, shooting him a baffling glare.

"I am _going_!" I half shouted, wrenching once more, then I grabbed his arm with my other hand as well but even using both I could not move him. Ori burst out laughing and some of the others chuckled as well at my desperate efforts.

Bofur smiled at me, then with what seemed like no effort at all he slowly, carefully, lowered my arm to the table.

"I'm just having an off-day." I grumbled through a defeated smile when he let go of my hand.

"Ask Bilbo, you might stand a chance against him." Bofur said with a wink and we both leaned forwards to consider the hobbit. Our attention did not go unnoticed, as Bilbo gave us a baffled, questioning look while narrowing his eyebrows and shaking his head slightly. 'What?' he mouthed over the noise.

I shook my head innocently and turned my attentions elsewhere, to where Ori was now cheering on Bifur as Dwalin's newest challenge. The older dwarf was screaming unintelligibly, and I was not certain it was even dwarvish. Dwalin, on the other hand, faced his foe with silent determination. Perhaps it was because he had already won against Bombur, Fili, Nori and Gloin, or perhaps Bifur was stronger than the rest, but Dwalin seemed to take longer than usual to finally touch Bifur's hand to the table. Ori applauded gleefully at the outcome and patted Bifur on the shoulder despite his loss.

"What about Ori? I reckon I could take him on." I suggested and looked at Bofur once more.

Bofur, who had also been watching the new match, looked back at me piteously shaking his head.

"He would win, dear." He said simply, and while I looked for a hint of jest in his features as he said it, I saw none.

I swatted him reproachfully, but knew he was right. He laughed and pushed my plate of food back towards me.

"Your hair," I said to Bofur after a few moments, glancing at him between bites. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow. I studied the dark wavy locks hanging loose about his shoulders. "It's different. It looks good like that." I added. He was in new clothing too, an overly large dark blue coat paired with a large studded belt. "I miss your old coat though," I continued, grabbing the large floppy sleeve of the new one, "it was cosier."

"Aye... and somehow I doubt this one's had a soaking, scantily clad lass wear it about. Wonder if we could remedy that?" He added the last part in a whisper with a wink.

I opened my mouth, then closed it, and slyly bit my lip recalling the time Bofur had lent me his coat to cover my nudeness when my own clothing had conveniently disappeared while I was bathing.

"But _I'm _still plenty cosy in this one, see." He said cheekily while wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into him. My bottom slid across the smooth bench until I was pressed close into his side, he threw his arm around my shoulders and nuzzled his face into my cheek, kissing the skin there.

"Bofur, they'll see." I muttered quietly as he dropped his arm down around my hips once more.

"Let them see." he said with confidence, reaching up and grazing my smooth jawline with his rough fingers, turning my head and tipping my chin up to kiss him properly and in full view of everyone else.

I heard some shouting and table thumping and broke the kiss quickly, smiling down at my lap and grabbing my mug to busy my hands. I peered up at the company, a few seemed to have missed the display entirely, too inebriated to likely notice much. Thorin was frowning slightly. Kili, however, smiled at me, but my heart stopped when I took in how ill he looked. His black hair hanging dank over skin paler than snow, his eyes dark with shadowed pain. I tried to smile back at him through my worry, but the smile never came, frozen as my gaze moved on to settle on the room's new occupant: the Master. He had, at some point during the evening, entered the hall and was eating at the head table. I must have been too preoccupied to even notice his arrival. He was looking at me over the half picked bones of a whole chicken, and his countenance was not friendly.

I picked at my food for a while longer and finished my drink, though all the while I felt increasingly stifled under the judgemental glare of our host. My world was slowly becoming slightly blurred, and I was becoming very distracted as Bofur's large warm hand again found a resting place on my leg, and after another drink it was moving up a little higher, unaware of my current strife. When yet another set of full mugs was set in front of us, I frowned and pushed them away. Bofur looked at me curiously.

"I think I need some air." I admitted sheepishly, not wanting to cut his celebrating short but feeling the need to free myself from the scepticism of one of my own kind.

He nodded and got up, helping me to my feet as well.

"Bofur." Thorin said sharply, causing us both to stop and look at him. "We gear up in the armoury at daybreak, and we leave shortly thereafter." he said gruffly. "Don't be late."

Bofur nodded, but frowned in confusion. "Aye, but we'll be right back, just stepping outside a moment."

Thorin looked at him with an odd expression. "In case you are not." he said slowly "Remember, daybreak." than looked away from us.

I couldn't meet Bofur's eye as we began walking away from the table, hardly believing that Thorin would even _imply_...

"Wait." I said, stopping in my tracks. "No, you go on, I'll meet you right outside, just give me a minute." I told Bofur who nodded and carried on out of the hall. I turned around and walked back to Kili, squatting down beside his seat.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a startled voice, indicating towards the exit. "You probably don't have long before he falls asleep. Go! Don't waste your time here!"

I rolled my eyes, my face likely as red as it would ever get. "Oh please, we were just going to get some fresh air."

He raised his eyebrows at me, grinning, but I frowned at him then lowered my voice.

"Kili, have you let Óin look at your leg?" I asked seriously. He didn't answer. "Please, Kili, you must let him see it. You're not well." I insisted.

He reached forward and gently grabbed a strand of my hair. "Tell Bofur to braid it for you." he said.

"What?" I asked, annoyed he didn't seem to be listening.

"Braid." he repeated. "He needs to braid it."

"Kili, did you even hear me?"

He laid his hand on my shoulder and leaned forward, looking at me intently. "Listen, I'm fine. I'll let Óin take a peek at it if you promise to go now. Don't waste tonight. None of us know what will happen when we reach the mountain. So go. _Have fun_... He may not get a chance to after tonight."

I hesitated, biting my lip, then finally nodded. I gave him a brisk kiss on the cheek before rushing out of the dining hall. I noticed the adjoining hallway was deserted and, before leaving, I sauntered over to the Master's desk. I deftly grabbed his bottle of expensive brandy, tucked it in my coat, squared my shoulders, then ran outside after Bofur.


	20. Something Expected

Bofur was waiting at the bottom of the steps. I smiled nervously when he saw me, then descended the stairs and took his hand, pulling him along with me as I walked with as much determination as I could muster.

I wanted this, didn't I? My memories slid back to when I was fifteen, when I was taken advantage of, painfully, repeatedly, blinded by the poor excuse that I thought was love. I had not been with another man since.

"Everything alright?" Bofur asked after a few moments, breaking the awkward silence that had arisen.

"Yes." I replied with confidence, but still he tugged me to a stop, forcing me to turn and look at him.

"I thought we were just going for some air?" he enquired, raising his eyebrows.

I smiled slightly then bit my lip and cast my eyes to the ground in embarrassment. "Change of plan... We're going to my place." I said as I continued to walk, pulling him along once more without looking at him. He said nothing for a few moments, but then he slowed and said my name.

"We don't have to, you know." he said seriously.

"But I want to." I replied breathlessly, casting him a quick glance.

After a few more moments of agonizing silence we were at my front door.

"This is it." I said, pushing it open and stepping inside. "It's not much." I added self-consciously as he came in behind me.

I went to the fireplace and brought the low embers back to life while Bofur cautiously stepped further into the room, surveying it thoughtfully. I then headed into the kitchen area, pulling out my nabbed bottle of brandy and pouring two small glasses of it. I gave him his, chinked his glass, and then downed mine before he had even raised his own. I grimaced and made a noise of disgust as I choked back the harsh liquid. Bofur frowned at me but drank his down.

"Where did you get that?" he remarked, his voice sounding impressed.

"What?" I asked, taking his empty glass.

"That brandy? It's a finer quality than any I've ever tasted... sort of wasted on you, seeing as you don't even like it."

"Friends in high places." I told him as my smile turned into a twisted grin. "But you can have the rest." I brought the glasses back to the counter. "It's here if you want it." I said, picking up the bottle to show him. Then I walked over to the fire, pulled off my coat and tossed it onto the chair, and finally I stood still, twirling my hair as I pondered what next to do.

Bofur walked up to me and took my hands.

"You're nervous." he alleged, his eyes full of concern. He gently pulled me over to the sofa and eased me onto it, sitting down beside me but keeping a careful distance between us.

I shook my head, finally registering his words. Truthfully I was anxious because I did not know what to expect, nor what was expected. My limited experience with men was dismal and I was worried that I would disappoint him, or worse - that he would disappoint me.

I became aware that he was still studying me as I pensively chewed on my lip. I lost myself for another moment in the warmth of his eyes and I realized this time would be different, it had to be. I had grown to love him, slowly, truly. I trusted him. I _knew_ him. I only hoped he felt the same.

"How long have we known each other?" I asked him suddenly, breaking out of my musings.

Bofur thought for a moment. "Near on five months now." he replied with conviction.

I nodded. "Five months... it may not seem like a long time to you. But for me, well, now I can hardly imagine a life without you in it." I began, somewhat tentatively. "It feels like I have always known you, or like I was always meant to..." I shook my head, feeling like I wasn't quite correctly expressing what I was feeling. "What I'm trying to say, is that you don't make me nervous. I've trusted you since the moment I met you."

I took a breath and felt my courage blossom so I continued. "I'm nervous because I don't really know what to do now, and what's allowed."

"Allowed?" Bofur repeated slowly.

"Between us now." I tried to clarify. "I'm not sure what I'm allowed to do, what's acceptable, you know?" I commented, but his face remained slightly confused. I sighed. "For example," I said, scooting closer towards him, "am I allowed to do this?" I grabbed his hands, and laced my fingers through them.

Bofur smiled. "Always." he said cheerfully.

I nodded and grinned. "And what about this?"

I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his, kissing him more passionately now that we were alone, running my tongue along his lips and opening my mouth to him. I felt warmth spread throughout my body but managed to pull away, then backed up and looked at him questioningly.

"Aye. You can do that whenever you like." Bofur responded rather huskily, his breathing a bit faster.

"_Whenever_ I like?" I repeated with a smile. Bofur nodded, tracing slow circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.

"And... am I allowed to do this?"

He looked at me in confusion as I moved to stand up, then his eyes widened when I proceeded to hike up my skirts, clamber onto his lab then straddle him entirely. My heart was pounding in my chest and I realized that I was truly scared - not of _him_, but of becoming intimate with someone new... of their reactions to me... of rejection.

Bofur, however, seemed far from objecting as he placed his hands on my hips, gripping them lightly as he stared up at me with dark eyes. Emboldened, I carefully wrapped an arm around his shoulders and placed my other hand on his chest. Then I leaned into him, beginning to slowly kiss up his neck. My worries began to disappear as I realized that this was entirely new in comparison to the bad experiences I had in the past. With Bofur, being close to him, it felt _good_, and I genuinely wanted to be with him, in any which way I could. My growing enthusiasm must have become apparent as Bofur sighed, moving a hand onto my lower back in order to push me closer against him. When I reached his lips I kissed him again with growing need. Then he shifted and turned his head.

"Stop." he whispered, clearing his throat. I pulled my hands away and sat back, instantly tense.

"Not allowed?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from sounding hurt.

"Definitely allowed." he replied, looking at me sheepishly but with a heavy glint in his eye, his hat crooked upon his head. "I just don't want to rush anything," he continued, "but in this position, _Mahal_, I might not be able to help myself."

I relaxed as his hand slowly trailed up my side, and then up to my neck, barely avoiding the curve of my breast as it moved up the front of my shoulder to my collar. He guided away a tress of my hair and rubbed it gently between his fingers.

"Your hair; it's so different than the dwarrowdams." he said, letting it slide over his hand.

"How so?" I asked curiously.

"Well it's much softer, like silk almost... smooth and straight. And it reflects the light, reminds me of gold..." he mused, still playing with it. "Dwarves have course hair, so thick and curly. It's a mess to work with."

"Will you braid it?" I asked hesitantly, meeting his eyes.

He looked surprised for a moment. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

I shrugged and looked down at his chest. "I don't know." I said distractedly, playing with the fabric of his shirt. "Kili told me to ask you to braid it. Is that some kind of... tradition? Though he and Fili braided my hair once and it didn't seem to mean anything." My hands fell from his shirt and clung together shyly.

He tilted my chin up and looked at me, his eyes warm and inviting. "Many braids are meaningless, just decoration or for daily convenience, and they can be done by anyone, though it is often a form of bonding between dwarves... But there is a particular braid that is an ancient custom among my people." he explained gently. "If a dwarf man is courting a maiden, and his advances are accepted, his will put a courting braid in his lady's hair - she might even put one in his - as a way of... publicly displaying their intentions, and laying claim to one another."

"Oh..." I muttered quietly, my cheeks blazing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Bofur leaned in. "I would love to braid your hair, if you'll let me?" he whispered against my cheek, making me smile and nod slightly. "I even made you something." He then reached in his coat and placed a small dark wooden bead in my hand. I held it up between my fingers; the surface was adorned with miniscule floral carvings.

"You made this, for my hair?" I asked with a smile.

"I could usually do better, but time and materials were somewhat lacking." he admitted guiltily.

I shook my head. "No, it's perfect." I said happily.

"Sit on the floor then, and I will claim you as my lass." he said teasingly, but I hurriedly obliged and got down, kneeling on the rug in front of him. "I'm warning you though," he said from behind me, "I'm not an expert, it will just be a simple braid. Besides, you're hair looks best as it is."

He swiped most of my hair over my shoulder and grabbed a small section off to the side at the base of my neck. I felt his fingers brush against the skin on my shoulders as he worked. I handed him the bead when he asked for it and after a few moments he proclaimed he was finished.

I tenderly brought the braid over my shoulder and looked down to examine it. Simple perhaps by dwarvish standards, but to me it looked quite intricate, for it wasn't simply one braid, but three; two tiny ones encompassing a third slightly larger one, weaving around and through it in a delicate pattern and secured at the bottom with the bead and some sinew.

I turned around and looked up at him in awe, emotion flooding through me. I was at a loss for words so I pushed myself up using his legs and planted a gentle kiss on his mouth. Yet as I leaned up into him, the kiss deepened. I wrapped an arm around his neck, my fingers bunching in his thick hair, but then my knee tangled in my skirt and I stumbled slightly forward. I was forced to break the kiss as I tried to rebalance myself in the awkward half-kneeling, half-standing stance I was using to properly reach him from my seat on the floor.

"Sorry." I mumbled, as I let go of him and tried to tug my dress out from under my legs, but I quickly became paranoid about damaging the fabric so I gave up and pushed myself to my feet.

"I don't want to ruin this dress." I explained as I tried to straighten out the bottom.

Bofur grinned and nodded in understanding as he stood up as well. He took a step closer to me and grabbed my hands.

"Then maybe we should take it off?" he suggested lightly, though his gaze was serious.

I smiled timidly as he took my arms and turned me around. I felt his fingers begin to undo the lacing at the back and I stood very still, my heart pounding, as the dress gradually loosened. He moved on to the belt, undoing the fastenings and then tugged at it until it was loose enough to fall to the floor at my feet. Soon enough I knew the only thing holding up my dress was my own grip on it. I was still wearing a sheer shirt underneath, plus a long underskirt besides, but still I clung it to my breasts. Bofur stepped back in front of me and I looked down at him with uncertainty.

"Bofur, I won't really look like the woman you're used to." I said quietly. "Are you sure you'll find me... attractive enough?"

"You're worried about that?" Bofur asked, his voice laced with equal parts exasperation and concern. I nodded once and looked down, but he reached up a hand to my cheek.

"You. You are beautiful, you know." he said softly. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

I smiled and brought a hand up to cover his.

"And I can guarantee," he added more fiercely but with a cheeky smirk, "that you are _more_ than attractive enough."

I then had the courage to let my other hand down. My dress fell to the floor. I stepped out of it and Bofur picked it up, laying it gently over the back of the chair. I then took his hand once more and led him wordlessly upstairs.

When we entered the bedroom I released his hand and went around the room to light a few candles, then I stopped near the foot of the bed and turned to face him.

He slowly closed the distance between us and reached out to brush my hair behind my shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically gruff as his fingers rubbed down along my collar bone.

"Yes." I said heatedly, taking his hands and placing them on my waist where the hem of my blouse had come loose from my skirt.

"Have you ever-?" he began, swallowing hard as he allowed his fingers to graze upwards against my bare skin.

"You don't have to worry about hurting me." I interrupted, grabbing the collar of his coat with both hands and pulling him up into a passionate kiss so he wouldn't have the chance to ask more questions.

Once the kiss began, I found my hands were hardly needed where they were, so they trailed down his chest to where the broad belt fastened his over-large coat onto his body. I tried to work the buckles, but my hands were shaking and I was too much involved in the kiss to think straight.

Fortunately, Bofur slowly broke away to take matters into his own hands, but this time remained close, his forehead pressed up against mine. His hands deftly removed his belt, and the moment it loosened my hands worked their way under the fabric of his coat. The belt clattered to the floor, and thus unhindered I slid my fingers quickly up his body to remove his outer layer.

Bofur let the coat slide off his arms, but that was all the time he allowed before his hands roughly grabbed my hips. His mouth kissed against the underside of my jawline and he pushed me back a step. My hand lifted to the back of his head and held him close, my fingers entwining with the locks of his hair.

Another step.

My free hand reached out behind me and confirmed we were nearly at the bed. Another step and the bed's mattress pushed into the back of my legs. We pulled apart from each other briefly while I sat down. Bofur's gaze studied me in that moment. His eyes met mine, saw the want - the desire - the need, and he kissed me again with a desire all his own. His hands wrapped around my slender frame and guided me onto my back, shifting me upwards on the bed as he climbed on as well and carefully positioned himself over top of me.

He lowered his face next to mine, then moved down and kissed my neck. The feel of his warm lips and moustache trailing along my sensitive skin caused small jolts of energy to course through my body. I closed my eyes and tilted my head, my breath escaping me. He shifted his weight to one arm and let his other hand rub down my side where it then slipped under my shirt and I felt his warm touch begin to slide back up my body. The feelings, the overwhelming cacophony of sensations, it was totally new to me and I felt completely alive in that moment. I gasped as his hand grazed the side of my breast and I began to unwind his scarf from about his neck. As I freed it and moved to toss it aside I accidentally knocked his hat off as well, and it tumbled gently to the floor. I paused slightly, but Bofur did not. His hand had settled just under my arm, his thumb barely teasing the skin under my breast as he continued to kiss along my neck.

Suddenly he extracted himself somewhat and moved to grab the hem of my blouse.

"Wait." I said, my voice low and husky. I stilled his hand before he could tug my garment up. He immediately stopped, pulling away from me with a frown.

"You first." I said with a smirk, sitting up in order to reach out and take the bottom of his shirt in my grasp. He smiled and sat up a bit as well.

"If you insist, m'lady." he said as he helped my efforts and pulled it over his head.

I stared at him a moment. His dark waves hanging down against his large bare shoulders. His wide chest rose and fell steadily, slightly glistening with sweat. I reached out and placed a hand against it, feeling the curves of his muscles as I trailed across it, up to his shoulder then down along his bicep, marvelling that I was able to, that he was actually mine tonight.

"You're so strong." I whispered appreciatively, as my hand continued down his arm.

"And you," he said with a grin, "are overdressed."

He took the bottom of my shirt with both hands and began to ease it up. I stiffened, just slightly, but he noticed and stopped once more.

I took his hands in mine, pressing them into my hips where they lay - to keep him close, to show him I didn't want to stop - while at the same time biting my lip nervously. It only took me a moment to make up my mind, and so I slipped my hands into his, relaxing their hold on my shirt while I placed a lasting kiss on his lips. When I broke away, my teeth tugged at his bottom lip, and when I finally let go he was smiling perplexedly.

"Let me." I said, and then rose up from the bed. He moved to sit, shifting his weight forward to rest one of his elbows on his knee as I took a few steps away into the middle of the floor. I glanced to the side and could see my body in the full length mirror beside the wardrobe. I took a deep breath, then looked Bofur square in the eyes as I slowly raised the blouse, revealing the slight point of my hip bones above my skirt, my flat stomach, my smaller waistline and gentle hourglass figure. I set my jaw and tried to breathe normally as I completed the motion and fully lifted it over my head. I dropped my hands to my sides and let my shirt fall from my grasp to the floor.

Bofur inhaled sharply, his eyes somewhat widening. I bit my lip, somewhat worried that he was disappointed, or maybe even startled, by my human form - though his actions this evening suggested otherwise.

I looked down with a rueful smile, my hair falling over my shoulder as I did so.

"Get your pretty little behind back here." he growled with mock seriousness, pointing at the bed with a mischievous grin. I wandered over slowly, got on and pushed him back against the pillows. I watched his expression change from surprise to longing as I climbed over him, settling down onto his lap again, my legs bent and pressed close on either side of his body. This time I was able to relish the feeling of his warm skin against mine as I leaned into his chest and kissed him. His hands explored up and down my bare back, gripped my sides, pushed me into him as our kissing grew more languish, as our desire grew hot. I felt him beneath me, his eagerness, and shifted my hips against him eliciting a deep groan and an even deeper kiss.

One of his hands moved down and slid under my skirt. He grabbed my leg possessively and rubbed up my thigh, yet then paused, breaking away from me and tilting his head.

"What's wrong?" I asked almost irately, my body thrumming in frustration at the interruption.

"You're leg, it's so smooth." he exclaimed with a weird grin, his hand easing over my thigh once more.

I smiled. "Well, I should hope so. I spent near an hour on them earlier."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his features turning to confusion.

I furrowed my brow. "Shaving." I clarified with sarcastic emphasis, looking at him as if he were daft, but when no recognition graced his features it suddenly dawned on me. "Oh," I said with a smile, "it must just be a human custom. It's not proper for our women to have excess body hair." I explained as he looked at me rather incredulously. "Is it off-putting?" I asked as I ran my fingers along his moderately hairy chest.

He laughed and moved his hand further up my leg. "No, love, don't worry." he said in a low voice before pulling me back down into a kiss. I soon melded into his body once more, kissing his neck and jaw and up by his ear. His other hand travelled up my side, and eventually moved over to cup my breast. He gently massaged it, causing me to quietly moan. I slowly rocked my hips against his, my body becoming warm and flushed with need as his other hand caressed the upmost reaches of my leg.

When he next kissed my mouth I opened it fully and gripped at him, pulling him as flush against me as he could get. He placed a hand on the back of my head and held me firm as he kissed me deeply, roughly. Suddenly he wrapped an arm around my waist and, in one swift motion, flipped me over onto my back, hiking my voluminous skirt up as I fell into the mattress with him overtop me. His hand settled between my legs and I gasped as his fingers deftly moved against me, slipping under my smallest undergarment and pleasuring me with deft expertise.

I felt my need build and couldn't help but lift my hips against him, moaning slightly as my body began to ache for a release I realized only he could provide.

I frantically began undoing the ties on his pants as he pulled my skirt even higher about my waist, but then he slowed, and kissed me softly, bringing his hand up to gently cup my face. His breathing was heavy, his eyes heavily lidded and glassy with desire.

"You sure, love?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes." I replied in a quiet, unsteady voice as I widened my legs a bit and pulled him further down onto me.

He wasted no time in claiming my mouth once more as he tugged down his trousers and positioned himself between my legs. I turned my head and buried my face in his neck as I felt him slowly enter me. I clenched my teeth as my body stretched around him in ways it was not used to doing, he was certainly larger than the tradesman of my past, or perhaps I just could not remember correctly, but I reasoned most dwarves would be thicker than human men given the overall bulkier build of their bodies. I groaned, half in pain, half in pleasure as he buried himself completely. He paused, his whole body tensing as he recognized my discomfort.

"Keep going." I whispered into his ear, rubbing my hand along his arm and trying to ease his hard muscles to relax. "Please, I need you." I trailed my lips down the side of his neck, and raised my hips slightly.

He hesitated for a moment, then brought his hand down under my thigh and held me firm as he began to slowly but deeply thrust into me, and soon the ache was replaced by a more pleasurable sensation as my body began to accept him, want him... want more. I lifted up my knee around his hips, giving him better access and he moaned into my neck and became more vigorous in his actions. I clung to him as I felt myself building. I whispered his name and tossed my head back onto the pillow then felt my muscles shudder around him just before he bunched his hand into my hair as his body released as well. He allowed himself to rest down on me for a moment, sighing in contentment next to my ear.

Then he pushed himself up a bit and placed a lingering kiss on my mouth before he gently pulled away. I pushed down my skirt as he did up his pants and flopped down beside me. After a few minutes rest he propped himself up with his elbow, placing his head on his hand, then he looked down at me with gentle concern in his eyes. I turned to face him and offered a small, tired smile.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head and took his free hand, interlacing my fingers with his. "No, that was... I didn't know it could be like that." I admitted wistfully with a smile. Bofur looked at me in confusion so I decided to elaborate. "I've only... _been _with one other person, a long time ago." I wrinkled my nose as I remembered the man's quick, rough actions. "It wasn't exactly enjoyable. But _that_... that definitely was." I smiled and shook my head in contentment.

Bofur frowned slightly. "How old were you?" he asked softly.

My smile faded slightly. "Fifteen." I quietly admitted and Bofur's face fell. "I was old enough to know better." I added quickly with a shrug, but his eyes bore into mine.

"It shouldn't have been that way..." Bofur said, still frowning. I smiled sadly at him and then shifted forward and pressed my forehead into his chest. He draped an arm over my waist.

"You're alright though?" he asked after a few moments.

I smiled against him. "Never better." I said. "But I should go clean up."

I slowly forced myself out of bed and then bent to pick up my shirt from the floor where I had dropped it.

"Nah, you don't need it." Bofur said with a grin as I stood up with it in hand. "Let me look at yah a while longer."

I smiled then tossed the blouse at him before sauntering off downstairs without it. After a quick wash, I headed back up to see that Bofur was already under the blankets. He pulled down one side when I arrived, waiting for me to crawl in beside him. I smiled, blew out the candles, then happily joined him and snuggled into his warm side. It was novel to be in an actual bed together, though at that point it was novel to be in a bed at all. I almost found it difficult to get used to, and couldn't help but shift about trying to find a comfortable position.

"What's the matter, lass?" Bofur asked as I turned, yet again, from my side to my back.

I looked at him with a goofy smile. "It's this bed. I'm not used to it. And the pillows. It's just so... soft." I explained.

Bofur laughed out loud and took up my hand, kissing the back of it with fervour. "I don't believe it! You're complaining because the bed is too comfortable? You've been too long on the road, love... We could move to the floor if you like?"

"That would be silly." I retorted, shaking my head. I'd likely sleep fine once I was tired enough, but I felt strangely energized. Conversely Bofur seemed ready to fall asleep at any moment.

"Was it the same for you, with a human?" I asked, turning into him and beginning to trace my fingers along his chest hair, hoping to keep him awake with me.

He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. "Well, I imagine the premise is the same no matter what." he teased. "Though you are certainly not like any dwarf woman."

"Was it _worse_?" I asked in mocking accusation.

"Of course not." he laughed, and then paused in thought. "Not for me anyway." he continued musingly. "Though it was... faster with you, probably too fast for you to enjoy it proper - but it's been a while and I'm, ah, not used... that is to say... you are quite a bit... well, tighter." he stammered.

I giggled at his discomfort and reached up to plant a small kiss on his lips. "Don't worry, like I said, it was good for me too."

We lay in silence for a while and I tried to fight the exhaustion that was now beginning to creep up on me. I knew that, come morning, he would have to leave me, and I didn't want the night to pass as quickly as it would if I fell asleep. Bofur slowly rubbed his thumb along the edge of my hipbone.

"Is my body quite strange to you?" I asked him, managing to stifle a yawn.

"In some ways." he replied, his voice getting slightly heavy with tiredness as well. "Your smooth legs and underarms are a bit unusual, and you have less hair in other areas too." he added with a small smirk. "Yet I find you very pleasing to look at... and _very_ pleasing to touch." At that he ran his hand up the curve of my side. "You're very slender compared to dwarf women, I worry most that I'll hurt yah... you seem so fragile to me."

"I'm not that fragile." I said, reaching up and letting my fingers gently touch his facial hair. He grinned and closed his eyes as I felt along his chin. "Don't fall asleep." I urged in a whisper. "I don't want tomorrow to come."

He lifted his own hand and clasped my own, bringing it up to his lips.

"Me neither." he agreed, planting small kisses on my fingers. "Don't worry, amrâlimê, tomorrow will not be the end. I promise." he said, squeezing my hand comfortingly.

I nodded and was glad for the dark to hide the tears that pricked the corners of my eyes.

"What does that mean?" I asked as I settled into the crook of his shoulder and tugged the covers up. "That word that you called me?"

"You'll know soon enough." Bofur responded quietly.

And despite my best intentions, we both fell asleep.


	21. Let Him Be Spared

For the second time on our journey, some daft fool thought that early morning horn blowing after a late night of drinking (and other such indulgences) was a good idea.

Bofur and I were rudely jolted awake as the jarring music, if it could even be called that, drifted through both window and wood wall, and thusly affronted our rather sleep-deprived senses.

I moaned and turned over into the pillow, Bofur however sat straight up.

"By my beard, is that the time?!" He exclaimed as he tried to untangle himself from the blankets, earning another unhappy moan from myself as he partially uncovered me in the process.

"I have to go, love, I'm late!" He said as he stood up and scrambled around the room for his clothing.

My slowly churning thoughts finally caught up with me, and then went into overdrive. I pushed myself up as well, my grogginess leaving me in an instant as I understood what his words meant. This was goodbye, yet now we had no time for it. I clamoured to my feet, pulling a sheet off the bed with me to cover myself, and quickly retrieved Bofur's hat and scarf as he frantically pulled on his boots.

I followed him, sheet and all, as he ran downstairs and to the door. He reached to open it and I felt my chest tighten, yet then he dropped his hand and turned to look at me, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry I made you late." I said quietly, pulling the sheet up closer against my chest.

He smiled, his eyes suddenly filling with warmth as he stepped up to me.

"I wouldn't have traded last night for anything." He said, placing a hand on my cheek. He then guided me down into a quick, but heartfelt kiss.

"We will see each other again." He said briskly, nodding as if in assurance.

I felt a lump form in my throat as he opened the door. I whispered a weak goodbye when he shot me one last look, hesitating on the threshold, his eyes full of sadness. I nodded at him, as if in assurance as well, and then he stepped out and took off towards the harbour.

The finality of his departure set in when I shuffled forward to close the door. I turned back to look at my empty home. I was alone now. On my own. I numbly tried to think of how to fill my day but nothing quite seemed worth my time. I managed to muster the will and energy to relight my fireplace and mechanically ate a jar of preserved applesauce. I even got dressed, donning my travel clothes, more for nostalgic value than anything. That, and the fact that I was so used to wearing trousers from weeks of travel that I now found wearing a dress rather restrictive. And then I sat, and watched the patterns in the flames of my fireplace, and let time slip by unnoticed.

When frantic knocking jarred me out of my reverie I sat a moment longer, frowning in confusion at the noise. I then deliberately got up and opened the door a crack, ready to bluntly turn away any visitors. I definitely did not expect to see not only Bofur, but Kili, Fili and Óin waiting on my doorstep.

"Miss me?" Bofur asked with a small grin as I opened the door its full breadth, my mouth hanging open in surprise. Bofur looked back at Kili, who was being heavily supported by the other two, and when he turned back to me his expression had darkened. "We need help. He's unwell..."

My breath caught in my chest as I took in how truly sick Kili appeared. I silently cursed the stubbornness of dwarves, knowing he did not make good on his promise last night to get treated, but I quickly stepped aside to let them in. Fili guided his brother to sit down. I ran and fetched a glass of water then sat beside him.

"Kili?" I asked gently, though he seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. I repeated myself more firmly and his glossed over eyes finally seemed to focus on me for a moment. "Here, try to drink." I said as I lifted the glass to his lips. He only managed a small amount before his eyes drifted and closed once more. I set the glass down and then leaned forward and pressed my cheek to his to check his temperature, a method my mother used when I was a child.

"He's burning up." I said when I pulled away. I fearfully looked up at Óin and spoke more loudly. "What do you need?"

He listed off a few medicinal items plus a few herbs that he thought would reduce his fever.

I stood up and shook my head. "I don't have anything here. We should take him to the Master, he will know of a healer, or at least where to get supplies."

The others agreed and Fili hoisted Kili up once more. I shot a concerned glance at Bofur as they went out in front of us; he frowned, which did nothing to reassure me.

* * *

"You were too late this morning then?" I asked Bofur as we hurried towards the centre of town.

"Aye, but it worked out." He said with a shrug as we kept pace behind the others. "I'd rather be here to help... Plus I damn near turned around just to stay with you." He added more quietly. I cast him a small smile.

As we approached the mansion, the town square was lined with guards. We quickly shoved past them and saw the Master and Alfrid just ascending the stairs.

"Please wait!" Fili shouted as we lurched to a stop at the bottom of the steps.

"What do you want? I've had enough of dwarves for one day." The Master spat, waving his hand dismissively as he turned towards his door.

"Please, we need your help! My brother is sick!" Fili begged.

"Sick?" The Master repeated worriedly as he pulled out a handkerchief and held it over his mouth. "Get back! Alfrid, don't let them come any closer."

I scowled and stepped forward. "Surely there is something you would be willing to-"

"Oh no, you get away!" he said, pointing at me and taking a few steps backward towards his door. "We know what you are! Traitor to your people, isn't she, Alfrid?"

Alfrid sauntered to the edge of the stairs and sneered down at me. "What? Thought you're actions last night went unnoticed?" he drawled as I stared up at him in utter bewilderment.

"It's a disgrace!" the Master half-shouted, shaking his finger at me.

"Just revolting." Alfrid added haughtily, tilting his head.

"Revolting!?" I shrieked at him. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

The Master tutted and moved to open his door. "It was smart of your mother to sell you off." he added, looking back at me. "Best choice she ever made, really. Better than her choice in men at any rate."

"She did not _sell_ me, you bastard!" I spat, glaring at him with as much detestation as I could muster. The venom in my voice caused him to pause and look down on me over his shoulder.

"Oh-ho! But you don't know, do you?" he exclaimed almost gleefully, turning to face us and rubbing his hands together. "Indeed! She sold you into labour for a purse full of coins to fuel her addiction. You were nothing but a _burden_."

I moved to lunge forward, wanting to run up the steps and throttle the man senseless, but Bofur quickly took my arm and held me back.

I angrily spun around, ready to simply wrench out of his grasp, but he shook his head slightly, his face turned down in fearful concern as he glanced back at his companion, at our friend. I looked at Kili's slumped figure and nodded, taking a steadying breath and trying to let my fury die. Now was not the time.

"Come," I said softly. "There's one other who may help."

The guards were eager to shove us away from the square, which did nothing to help my agitation as I began to lead the dwarves through the town, but after a few turns my memory began to fail me.

"Bard." I said suddenly to Bofur. "You were at his place; do you remember where it is?"

"I don't think he'll let us in." Bofur said quietly as I looked around, completely at a loss of where I was. My gaze fell on Kili, who seemed to now be in a dead faint as Fili and Óin appeared to be struggling to hold him upright.

"It's our only option!" I cried, becoming increasingly frustrated with wasting time. "Do you know where to go or not?"

Bofur nodded and took my hand, squeezing it before pulling me in the right direction.

* * *

I ran forward and pounded on the door when we found the right house. Similar to my mannerisms this morning, Bard only opened it a crack, peering out suspiciously. His expression softened when he saw it was me and he opened it a little wider, but then he noticed the others coming up behind me and stalled his movement.

"No. I'm done with dwarves." He said firmly. "I'm sorry." He added, glancing at me apologetically before beginning to pull the door shut once more.

"No, please!" I shouted, jamming my hand in and causing him to halt his action lest he wished to crush my fingers. He sighed and looked at me impatiently, waiting for an explanation.

"Please, Bard, no one will help us. Kili is sick. His wound has festered." I said quickly and pleadingly. Bard looked over my shoulder and then sighed once more before permitting us inside.

He allowed Kili to be brought over to a small bed where Óin quickly undid the bindings on his leg to examine the injury. I hovered back, waiting to see if he needed anything.

Bard lightly touched my arm and quickly introduced his children to me, I remembered the names of the older two from when I still lived in town, but I would never have recognized them now.

"The head of the arrow is still there, I need to cut it out." Óin announced, talking a few steps towards us. "I need hot water, clean cloths, more light, and a needle with sinew or thread. And a clean razor - your sharpest."

While materials piled in, he made Kili as comfortable as he could be, laying him with his top half up on the bed and his legs over the edge, his wounded leg stretched out on one of the table benches, which he had first covered with a piece of clean scrap cloth. The last piece to arrive was the razor, boiled to disinfect it as best they could. Óin sat on a chair beside the makeshift sick-bed, positioned his supplies within hands reach but out of harm from potential flailing limbs, and then bade us all near.

"The less he moves the better." He stated simply. "Hold him." He instructed, nodding to our party. Fili and I took up positions flanking Kili's shoulders on the bed, where I laid a hand on his brow. The others did likewise along the length of his body.

"Bofur..." Óin began, drawing my attention to the nervous wreck of a dwarf holding the candle. "...best you just hold the light. Bring it closer now." Bofur smiled in thanks for not being expected to get too near the trauma, but it turned sheepish under my gaze. I smiled softly to reassure him that it was alright.

"Hold him steady now." Óin said as he washed his hands. He then took up the razor and positioned the blade at the base of the arrow shaft which, though jagged and broken mostly off, still protruded from the wound. "Alright laddie, this will hurt." He met Kili's gaze, the young dwarf was breathing rapidly to retain some lucidity.

"Do it." Kili begged, and Fili shoved a chuck of leather into Kili's mouth then nodded at the healer to begin. Kili's muffled yell echoed through the small dwelling as the blade pierced the hot, infected flesh.

Óin cut away from the arrow shaft a small distance in one direction, widening the wound in a razor thin incision. He did the same in the other direction. Our party leaned all our weight on the patient, with Fili almost draped across his brother's chest - all his pain and anguish channelled into fighting to keep his brother's uncontrollable writhing from causing more harm.

Óin then slowly inserted a finger into the new incision, tracing the shaft down into the wound and causing a whole new level of pain. I lay my body against Fili's back, my arms with his pushing down to keep Kili still.

"Bless me...the arrow hasn't hit bone. And no arteries either." Óin exclaimed, and then reinserted the razor blade to make two quick, precise cuts to deepen those he made prior. He then set the blade down, gripped the exposed metal end of the arrowhead and pulled hard. The wicked looking black arrowhead came free, and for a brief moment we all gaped at the horrid perfection that had gone into this piece of weaponry. Then, before our eyes, the arrowhead crumbled to ash.

"Blasted orc sorcery." Óin grumbled, dusting his hands together, though he seemed to make no more of it as he began to clean the wound. Kili's body relaxed slightly and I stood up and stepped back beside Bofur who was looking at the floor as he held out the light. I placed a hand on his shoulder and waited while Óin finished stitching the wound shut with needle and thin sections of sinew before binding it with the clean bandages.

Kili still looked ashen, his clothing soaked through with sweat, but when Fili removed his grip on him he seemed to be laying quite peacefully.

"There now, his body should be able to start healing properly." Óin said as he wiped his hands clean. "Give him some water then let the lad rest. If we're lucky his fever should go down by tomorrow."

Fili busied himself in tending to his brother, settling him properly in the bed and retrieving some water while Bard and his eldest daughter, Sigrid, cleaned up the surrounding area. Bofur went and spoke with Óin quietly for a few moments then sidled back to me and touched my hand.

"Let's go get some air." He said quietly, setting down the candle holder.

I nodded and followed him out the door.

* * *

"Some air?" I repeated teasingly once we had walked around the corner, looking at him with a grin and raising my eyebrows suggestively.

Bofur laughed and grabbed my middle, causing me to laugh as he reeled me gently around and pushed against the outer wall of the nearest house.

"That is _not_ what I meant." He said into my neck with a smile, trailing a kiss along my skin. "But don't tempt me."

"Don't tempt _me_ then." I giggled, pushing him off me, worried someone would see.

Bofur grabbed my wrist and tugged me along with him.

"Truth is I really did need to get out for a while. Óin says Kili will likely sleep for most of the day, he should be fine." Bofur explained more seriously.

I nodded, feeling a weight lift off my chest; I'm sure Bofur felt similarly.

"Lunch at my place?" I asked lightly.

"Lead the way." He replied with a smile.

A few minutes later I was desperately shoving aside dusty jars in my house's old, ill-stocked pantry looking for something actually decent to serve to my guest.

"So when I said lunch... I actually meant -" My words faltered when I pulled aside an old milk crate and suddenly revealed rows of bottles: gin, whiskey, beer, wine. It was quite the impressive array of drinks; more than one household should have, more than we could have ever afforded when I lived at home.

I sighed, my thoughts darkening.

"Everything alright?"

I jumped at the nearness of his voice and tried to shove the crate back into place, attempting to hide the secret, but Bofur was already behind me, a hand on my back, and his expression told me he had indeed seen the collection.

I turned and smiled stiffly.

"Yes. Yes of course." I said, my voice rather high pitched as I tossed my hands into the air. "We can just down a bottle of scotch for lunch, like my mother apparently did."

I stomped past an open-mouthed Bofur and rushed upstairs as he called my name and stumbled after me.

I began tearing the room apart, searching for something, searching for signs. I found another half empty bottle in the nightstand. I rifled through her vanity, and found nothing, which was also a problem. She once owned a few pieces of jewellery that my father had brought back for her from trading ventures. Jewellery she treasured and promised to me when I was old enough. I found none of it. Bofur said my name slowly, but I ignored him and continued to frantically search, hoping to find some sign, some explanation, perhaps a hidden box of the precious items from my father. I needed to know she didn't sell those too in place of the bottles that seemed littered throughout my childhood home.

I yanked all the clothes out of the wardrobe and then dropped to the floor, defeated and feeling utterly betrayed.

"She sold it all." I muttered, absently sliding the piles of clothing away from me.

"What, love?" Bofur asked, sitting on his knees behind me and placing his hands on my arms.

I looked around, overwhelmed and almost confused by it all. "There was this opal necklace... And other things, from my father." I said listlessly. "Not really valuable... But priceless in other ways. She sold it all, just to spend her days at the bottom of a bottle. I guess she even sold me."

Bofur swiped my hair over my shoulder and kissed the back of my neck, and then he wrapped his arms around me while I tried to accept this new reality. I suddenly felt naive, embarrassed, I had been living a complete lie. I held my breath for a moment in anger, then let it out in a sigh. This was not my life now, I had a new one, and I was not about to let it get any fouler.

I spun around and looked at Bofur. He, understandably, seemed unsure what to say but lifted his fingers and swiped my hair away from my forehead.

"Kiss me." I said calmly but slightly pleadingly. Bofur studied me, his eyes searching mine, but when I said no more he nodded slightly then abruptly grabbed behind my head and smashed his lips into mine, claiming my mouth hungrily.

For a while I was appeased. I kissed Bofur with a one-track mindedness that allowed me to become fully comfortable with exploring him, trying to learn his rhythms and likes as he attempted to do so for me. I was still in new territory and it was quite exhilarating. We somehow tumbled onto the bed and I willed myself to forget, everything, to erase the world around me and focus solely on the feeling of his hands on my body, his mouth against mine. Eventually, however, I realized I could not completely let go of the nagging worries and disappointments I was now faced with. These dark thoughts kept trickling into the back of my mind and I had to focus harder and harder to ignore them. Bofur eased up slightly, likely sensing my growing lack of enthusiasm. He lightly kissed the side of my mouth before moving back to look at me, taking up my hand and weaving his fingers with mine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently.

I slowly shook my head. "I'm feeling a little tired. Perhaps I'll just rest a while."

Bofur nodded and pulled a blanket up, arranging it over us as I turned over and closed my eyes. He wrapped an arm around me as I attempted to clear my head by letting sleep take over.

I was able to nap for most of the day. Bofur left in the evening to check on Kili and I woke when he returned. He assured me everything was fine, Kili was still asleep, and that we could wait until morning to visit him again.

"Did you tell someone where we were, just in case they need us?" I asked, still somewhat anxious since I hadn't seen Kili with my own eyes.

"Aye. Bard seemed to know the house. He also sent some food, if you're hungry?"

I nodded and followed Bofur downstairs to see a savoury meat pie of some sort waiting on the table. I made a mental note to pay Bard and his family back as I gratefully served each of us up a piece.

We turned in early that night as I was still harbouring a rather dark mood and did not feel up to talking much. Bofur, fortunately, did not seem to mind, and I felt a jot of happiness when he helped me fall asleep by gently stroking my back while humming softly under his breath.

* * *

The following afternoon we quietly let ourselves in at Bard's without bothering to knock. Bard was in the back rummaging through a cupboard and his children were in another room. Fili got up when he spotted us and walked over, his expression somewhat strained.

"His fever hasn't gone down." He said, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. "In fact it's gotten worse."

"Worse!" Bofur repeated worriedly. "How?"

Fili shook his head and we followed him back to Kili's beside. Though still in a restless sleep, Kili's body was trembling and his skin remained pale. We wordlessly pulled up chairs and sat at his bedside. A short while later he woke. Nearly immediately his face scrunched up in pain and he began moaning and tossing about despite our efforts to calm him.

The day dragged by as we took turns helping Óin brew teas and poultices or helping Bard's daughters prepare meals. Fili, however, would not leave Kili's side and spoke to his brother softly in Khuzdul while holding a cool cloth against his head.

Finally, a few hours after the sun had set, Kili seemed to stabilize, and Óin told me to go home to get some sleep. Bofur said he was going to stay behind a while to take over for Fili so that he might get some rest. I nodded in acquiescence, noting how tired the young prince looked. He had likely not slept at all since Kili fell ill.

"I'll send Bain if anything changes." Bard promised, noting my reluctance to leave. When I still hesitated, he set me a task to do on the way back to his house the next morning.

"My stores are dwindling. I hadn't expected such company..." He explained as he handed me a rather sparse feeling coin-purse. "Stop at the market tomorrow when it first opens and see if any fresh food has come in. If not..." He glanced back to the dwarves, who had already imposed so much on his hospitality. "Well, we'll settle for something less fresh." He flashed me a grim smirk, and then bade me goodnight.

* * *

The next morning I awoke and prepared hurriedly, eager to get to the market to procure the best food I could find - primarily to help speed Kili's recovery, but well cooked meals would also serve the purpose of keeping everyone's spirits up in such a troublesome time. I dug out from the pantry the only basket that seemed somewhat presentable, pulled my coat on, checked for the coin-purse I had left in my pocket the night before, and then bustled out the door. I was in such a hurry that I didn't even notice the dwarf sitting on an upturned bucket outside until the door slammed behind me, causing him to let out a loud snore.

"Bofur!" I half-shouted in surprise, causing him to automatically jump to his feet and right the hat which he had pulled down over his eyes to keep out the first rays of morning light.

"What time is it?" He asked blearily, rubbing the side of his face, before noticing that it was me. "Ah - good morning my dear."

"Good heavens! What the heck are you doing sleeping out here? You know I didn't lock my door in case you came late last night!" I exclaimed, dropping the basket and moving to smooth out his coat a bit. He drew me in closer.

"That's just it love," he began, then paused to plant a kiss on my lips. "I noticed the door unlocked, and couldn't find where you'd hidden the key to lock it after me. Standing guard seemed like the safest option. Desperate times make for hard folk." He stated, casting a wary glance about us.

"Bofur, who's going to rob an old, derelict house?" I demanded, pulling away from him with some frustration at the trouble he had gone through to keep me safe. I retrieved my basket and then offered out my arm for him to take. He linked his arm in mine and I began to guide him towards the market.

"It isn't robbery I was worried about." He stated bleakly, but said no more about it, leaving my imagination to fill in the blanks.

* * *

We arrived at the market and I collected as many useful food items as I could afford with Bard's coin. We got more than a few second glances, and a few folk stared directly at Bofur with curious expressions. It had been many years since dwarves had been present within the town, and children especially gaped at my companion with a mixture of awe and fear. Bofur, however, just smiled and tipped his hat, which would cause a lot of the bairns to smile back shyly as he passed by.

"I still need flour and eggs if you see any." I commented after procuring a bundle of carrots.

We made it through the next few stalls without purchasing any of their wares, for much of it was close to spoiling. It was hard to turn down the shopkeepers' offers - perhaps they expected the dwarves of Erebor to come laden with treasures, and yet here we were spending borrowed coin. Many looked on the verge of destitution, and yet they all remained civil even when we dashed their hopes by politely declining their wares.

"Oh, there's Bard there." I said as I spotted him on the edge of the market speaking to an older man. I felt a moment of panic rising in my chest wondering if his presence meant that something had happened to Kili and he was trying to find us. Yet when I saw Bard glance at us, but not immediately try to gain our attention, I reasoned it was nothing urgent. We continued on, finding a small cask of flour (nearly insect free) and a dozen eggs.

After seeing his conversation come to an end we wandered over to the bargeman, Bofur laden with the cask and vegetables and I with my basket. He greeted us as we approached, appraising the goods we had gathered and accepting the now nearly depleted coin-purse back. When we asked how Kili was, Bard seemed characteristically bleak.

"He was awake and aware when I left, though for how long is anyone's guess. The older dwarf - Óin, was it? - asked that if I saw you to send you his way."

We hurried back to Bard's and Óin accosted us before we got to Kili's bedside. I handed over our groceries to Bard's eldest and waited for an update.

"He's no better." Óin admitted without much preamble. "If his fever doesn't break soon... well, no good can come of it."

I tried to keep breathing calmly though I felt a wave of cold fear wash over me. Fili got up and joined us, his face sombre.

"Bofur and I could leave, try to catch up to Thorin-" I began, but Fili shook his head and cut me off.

"No." he said glumly. "If he were to hear of any ill-news regarding Kili he might abandon the quest altogether, then it will have all been for nothing."

"I fear it will be a hard few days." Óin commented before he returned his attention to Kili. We followed behind him and watched as he prepped his workspace in order to change the bandages. I watched behind Óin's shoulder as he exposed Kili's leg. It was obvious that the injury was continuing to fester as pus oozed out between the stitching.

"He may still pull through." he muttered as he set to work.

I looked back at Fili and Bofur. We all had the same fearful expression and, though we would never dare to vocalize it, I knew were thinking the same: _What if he did not pull through?_

* * *

Three more days passed worryingly as there was no improvement in the young dwarf. There were periods when he was awake, and in those times we managed to feed him light soups and replenish his fluids. Yet we could all see the paleness growing in his skin, his face becoming gaunt and his strength continually fading.

Though I was loath to leave in case anything happened, I found I needed time away from Kili's sickbed as it was emotionally draining and I hadn't the energy to watch him night and day. With the continued reassurance that Bain would come to fetch me if there was any change, I retreated to my house for regular breaks in which I set myself to mundane organizing and cleaning. Curiously Bofur took up whittling when he had no duties to attend to, both at Bard's house and at my place. At first I watched him with interest, but it seemed a very slow process so I soon tired of it and left him be.

I was surprised when I got up the next morning to see him sitting at his allotted workstation at the table with three completed wooden toys sitting in front of him; horses of such detail that I let out a noise of wonder as I carefully picked one up to inspect.

"These are wonderful!" I commented as I gently set it back down and turned to beam down at him. Bofur grinned in thanks and sat back in his chair, stretching his hands out.

"They just need a quick coat of oil. I had a mind to try and sell 'em at the market today." he explained. "Perhaps I can make enough to get a bit more food and supplies."

I nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good idea. I'm certain they will sell, for a decent price even. Laketown hasn't had a decent toymaker since... before I was born at any rate. My toys were rubbish compared to these beauties. In fact I'll be somewhat jealous of the children that get them." I added with a smile as I looked down at them once more.

I shrieked then giggled as Bofur suddenly reached and grabbed onto my waist, tugging me down so that I mostly fell onto his lap. He secured his arms around me as I placed my own about his neck.

"You flatter me, love." he said into my neck before placing a brusque kiss upon it. He then moved up to my ear. "You know I'll craft you anything you like, I'll whittle you a whole cavalry if you desire."

I turned my head and pressed my lips to his, then smiled against his mouth.

"Alright." I said, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye. "One day I'd like you to make me a dog figurine. And I don't mean a cute little dog; I'd like a hunting dog, a noble hound."

"That's it?" he asked as he rubbed my leg absentmindedly. I nodded with a grin. "Well, I think I can manage that."

I left him to finish up while I got ready and we travelled back to the market together. As I suspected, it wasn't long after he set the wooden horses out on a tray in front of him that he had a flock of children coming up to view the toys, and it wasn't long after that before a few of them managed to drag one of their parents back to see them as well. Within an hour all three had sold, and he had to assure a few townsfolk that he would try to craft more. He earned enough to purchase fresh bandages, a fair few bundles of vegetables, a small sack of apples that had just arrived, and even a large haunch of venison.

Unfortunately we arrived at Bard's to hear that there had been no improvement in Kili's condition, however it was satisfactory that we were able to repay Bard in some small way for his generosity by supplementing his meagre pantry with our recent market purchases. Sigrid took the raw venison with a measure of excitement that hinted at their impoverishment and began preparing it to be cooked for dinner.

* * *

It was the next day, a week since arriving in Laketown, that Kili's condition went from bad to worse. He did not wake up for the entire morning but simply thrashed about in fever dreams, a sheen of sweat covering his face.

After I ate a quick lunch I ordered Fili to do the same while I took over for him. Sigrid brought over a cold cloth and handed it to me. I thanked her and moved up beside Kili's head. He had calmed slightly, though his chest was rising and falling rather rapidly so I knew he was not fully asleep. I set the cloth on his forehead and left my hand there, applying a slight pressure over top of it. His eyes cracked open and his gaze darted across the ceiling until I gently said his name and he turned his head slightly and focused on me.

His brow furrowed and he tried to croak my name but his voice was so unsteady and weak. I quickly hushed him and moved my hand down to grasp his, trying to offer words of comfort and reassurances, but his face did not relax and he began to shake his head while trying to speak once more.

"I- I might not get out of this one." He managed to vocalize, even attempting to grin sardonically before his features once again turned into a grimace of pain.

I immediately tried to object but he interrupted me and his voice was so quiet I was forced to stop talking in order to hear him at all.

"Can you do something for me?" He whispered, looking at me seriously before squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, his breathing becoming laboured. I nodded and leaned forward slightly, quietly assuring him I would do anything he needed.

"If you ever see Tauriel again... can you tell her-" he clenched his jaw, shifting on the bed as I'm sure his pain threatened to overwhelm him. He took a few deep breaths in through his nose then finally was able to speak once more.

"Tell her... I thought she was beautiful... exquisite really."

He glanced at me and likely saw my rather surprised expression before I caught myself and rearranged my face.

"Will you tell her for me?" He asked again, his face straining in agony once more.

"Of course." I said quickly as I squeezed his hand. "But I think you can tell her that yourself." I added firmly with a smile. He tried to grin once more and nodded to himself, but after a few moments he seemed to fall back into either unconsciousness or restless sleep; it was getting difficult to tell.

I made room as Fili stepped up to the side of the bed as well.

"Was he speaking to you?" He asked, gazing down at his brother wistfully.

"He only woke for a moment." I replied, letting go of Kili's hand. "He wasn't really coherent." I said with a small shrug, not wanting to reveal Kili's rather personal request.

"Ah." Fili replied dismally, his gaze not leaving Kili's face as he took up his hand.

I stepped aside to allow him to regain his place and then wandered over to Bofur, feeling as hopeless and lost as we all looked.

* * *

By that evening Óin was in a panic.

"He's deteriorating." he announced after hastily checking his temperature and vitals. He began to unwind the bindings to check the wound itself, ordering Bofur to boil fresh water. As he cut Kili's pant leg open wider, we were all able to see dark veins under his skin spreading from the injury. The healer muttered something in dwarvish.

"Can you not do something?" Fili asked desperately looking to Óin as Bofur returned with a boil of steaming water.

"I need better herbs. Something to bring down his fever."

Bard took another quick inventory of his dwindling medical supplies, spreading them out on the table. "I have nightshade. I have feverfew-" he began, but Óin interrupted.

"They're no use to me now. Do you have any kingsfoil?"

"No. It's a weed. We feed it to the pigs." Bard replied with a quizzical frown.

"Pigs!" I heard Bofur repeat, then he reverted to muttering under his breath to himself before he seemed to make up his mind as he suddenly proclaimed, "Right!"

He ran back and pointed at Kili who was still writhing in pain. "Don't move." he ordered before hastily leaving the house without another word.

Óin assured me there was nothing else I could do to be of use as even he knew not what to do, so I made my way into the kitchen area where Bard and his children were sitting at the table.

Bard got up when I approached and offered me his chair.

"Please, sit." He insisted, then bustled around for a few moments and proceeded to set out mugs and a teapot plus some bread and cheese. He then poured two cups of tea and brought them over to Óin and Fili before returning and pulling up a new chair for himself.

We ate in determined silence for a while, then when the girls were through Bard gently ushered Sigrid and Bain to take Tilda to the other room. Then he looked at me.

"How is he?" He asked after a moment.

I sighed and set down my mug. "It doesn't look good." I admitted in a soft voice, feeling a lump form in my throat as I accepted the seriousness of Kili's situation.

Bard remained silent for a moment, glancing over towards the bed where Kili lay.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He offered sympathetically as he looked back to me.

I nodded in thanks, sipping my tea quietly for a few moments, trying to think of something else to talk about, to distract myself. I began to chew on a completely unrelated question, but wasn't sure how to comfortably bring it up.

"Bard," I began, looking thoughtfully at the grain of wood in the table. "I know you knew my father before he died... And you knew my mother as well... You said she was a good person... But... Well, was she in the end?"

"Why would you ask that?" He replied cautiously.

I shrugged, taking another sip of my tea. "I've heard some things..." I answered softly, keeping my gaze to the table.

I heard Bard sigh and glanced up to meet his concerned face.

"Look, the thing you have to understand is-"

A sound like distant thunder cut his words short, trembling the entire house and shaking dust from the ceiling. He stood up as his children rushed in, looking to him for an explanation.

"Da?" Sigrid said worriedly.

"It's coming from the mountain." Bain remarked, his voice slightly laced with panic as he glanced outside the window.

Fili then approached and looked to Bard.

"You should leave us." He insisted. "Take your children; get out of here."

Bard looked back at Fili, his expression dire. "And go where? There is nowhere to go." He uttered, making the reality of our peril become instantly real.

"Are we going to die, Da?" A small voice broke the silence as Tilda looked at her father, her face displaying a concern that should not be seen on one so young.

"No, darling." Bard immediately replied.

"The dragon, it's going to kill us." She insisted, and for the first time on the journey I truly felt afraid of the beast that had always seemed so abstract... so fabled.

Everyone then looked to Bard, as if we all needed that typical unwavering comment of hope he would offer to keep his daughter from being frightened. His eyes remained fixed on his children and there was a moment of terse silence where he did not quickly provide that reassurance. We waited with baited breath. Then, to everyone's shock, he suddenly looked up and roughly yanked down an immense arrow, that which, moments before, had been nothing more than a drying rack for plants, completely disguised and hidden in plain sight.

"Not if I kill it first." he said with severe determination.

"A black arrow!" Bain exclaimed, skipping forward and admiring the weapon that Bard held carefully at his side.

"I need to go." Bard said after a moment. He looked at me. "Will you watch them?" He asked, his expression softening.

"Yes. Yes of course." I said, wringing my hands nervously. I opened my mouth to speak but Bain beat me to it.

"Where are you going? Can I come?"

Bard frowned and looked at his son. "I need to set it to the wind lance, without notice from the guards." He explained quickly.

"Let me help." Bain pleaded and after a moment Bard surprisingly relented with a nod.

"I may need a distraction." He said, taking his son by the shoulder and leading him to the door. "We shouldn't be long." He told his girls before he left. "Stay inside."

Sigrid nodded and led Tilda back to their bedroom. I paced around Bard's house as Fili and Óin returned to Kili's side. _Why was Bofur taking so long?_

Sigrid soon joined me as I was brewing another pot of tea.

"Tilda's asleep." She explained quietly as she began to tidy things around me. "It's been a tiring week. We don't often get company."

I smiled at her in understanding, knowing what an adjustment it must have been to have a bunch of dwarves unexpectedly accost their living space.

"I babysat you and your brother once." I offered conversationally as I poured us both fresh mugs. She looked at me in confusion and I grinned. "I think you were around the age of five at the time."

"That's very strange. I'm afraid I don't remember." She remarked with a small laugh as we sat down. "Da told me you were born here, but spent many years in a town called Bree in the west?"

I nodded as I absentmindedly played with the braid Bofur had put in my hair. "I had always thought this to be my home, no matter how long I stayed away." I said, though as I uttered the words I felt an odd feeling in my gut as I knew it wasn't turning into the home I had always thought it would be.

Sigrid then asked me about my travels, and I told her about meeting the dwarves and a few rather edited tales about some of our 'excitement' on the road. She seemed particularly interested in hearing about the elves and kept veering the conversation back to my time in Rivendell and Mirkwood.

"Honestly, I don't have much to tell you about Mirkwood," I said rather regretfully after her enthusiastic questioning. "We were locked up and I only really saw the path to and from a bathing area, until we escaped in the cellars that is."

"Did you see the King? What was he like?" She inquired, her eyes bright.

I pondered for a moment. "He was... polite." I offered, but she continued to look at me expectantly. "Intense. Smart... Really intimidating."

Sigrid smiled as I took a luxuriously slow sip of tea.

"And... obviously handsome, if you're into the whole perfect immortal-being thing." I added with a smirk, causing her to laugh.

We both jumped as Bain slammed open the door than shut it with a thud behind him, completely out of breath. Sigrid jumped to her feet and ran to him. I stood up as well.

"Where's Da?" Sigrid demanded.

"I don't know!" Bain huffed, still trying to catch his breath. "The guards, they were after him, we split up."

"What?" Sigrid shrieked. "What do you mean, what happened?"

Bain looked somewhat desperate, his cheeks flushed. "I was hoping he'd already be back here." He explained. "We were being chased. I hid the arrow while he led the guards off."

Tilda suddenly tugged on Sigrid's sleeve, having been awoken by the commotion. Sigrid was forced to calm down, and the three of them sat at the table to talk amidst themselves.

Though I knew nerves were suppressing appetites, I took it upon myself to try and provide some kind of actual meal and rummaged through Bard's stores. I managed to provide everyone with a rather impressive plateful of cooked eggs, bacon and toast that I insisted rather menacingly that they all eat. Though when I sat down to my own I did find it quite difficult to actually swallow each bite, and even so, I hardly tasted it. I couldn't believe Bofur was still absent, it was well past dark, and I was beginning to worry about him along with everything else. After I had forced down that last bite of my bread, I cleaned up then walked back to Kili's bed, taking Óin's place as he went to boil fresh water. Fili glanced at me; his normally calm, handsome face was strained with worry.

I tried to offer him a small reassuring smile. "Fili, he's going to be fine." I said softly.

Fili frowned then slowly reached forward and pulled up the bottom of Kili's tunic, revealing his bare side and stomach. My hands began trembling when I saw the darkened veins travelling up from his one hip towards his chest, a clear as day indication of blood poisoning. Fili quickly tugged down the shirt after he knew that I saw it. I looked back at him in fear and saw the same fear reflected in his eyes. I tried not to let my own fill with tears, but I no longer knew what to say. Instead I placed my hand on his shoulder then leaned down slightly and rested my forehead against his in what I now knew was a typical dwarven gesture for displaying camaraderie or love. His hand gripped the back of my neck and we stayed like that a moment, eyes closed as we fought back the overwhelming dread.

"He will be alright." I managed to whisper, "he has to be."

"He will be." Fili said softly after a moment as he pulled away, nodding to himself. "He's always been a fighter."

I opened my mouth to respond, but then stopped as we heard the creaking of dock boards from nearby outside. Sigrid sprung to her feet and moved to the door while everyone else glanced towards it, anxiously awaiting both Bofur's and Bard's return. There was no other noise for a moment and so Sigrid stepped outside to check, quietly calling for her father.

We knew something wasn't quite right when the creaking continued, but this time on the roof. When Sigrid's scream broke the quiet we all sprang to our feet, and immediately were forced to react as the girl backed into the house, followed immediately by the hulking form of an orc. Óin launched an armful of empty bowls at it, forcing it back. Simultaneously, more of them began to break through the ceiling.

Fili placed a hand on my arm, looking rapidly from me to his brother, but then a second shout from Sigrid forced him to leave us, charging headlong to grapple with the first of the assailants. I looked to Kili as well, worried he would be an easy target, but he seemed to be having a moment of clarity spurned by adrenalin.

"Go!" He grimaced through clenched teeth, clearly in pain, but lucid enough to see I was no use fretting over him. "I'll be fine." He reassured, no longer looking to me but at the battle. Another orc burst through the window next to us, but Óin, returning to his patient's side, grabbed the orc by its throat and swung an upended bottle at its head.

The shattering impact of the bottle against the creature's skull forced a subconscious gasp and a jump from me. The older dwarf shouted at me over his shoulder "Help them!" and I was galvanized into action. Fili was busy brandishing a broom to hold off several orcs at the doorway, and though they seemed to be toying with him, he was in less peril than Bain, who was protecting his sisters beneath the table.

He cleverly used the table bench to stun the one nearest, and then upended it to try and topple the creature, but the orc was stronger, and simply caught the bench, halting its momentum immediately. I moved towards Bain almost before he registered his attack had failed, my hand grabbing at the nearest makeshift weapon - a knitting needle from a half knitted scarf forgotten on the windowsill.

As the orc wrenched the bench aside, I raised my hand behind my head and then swung with all my might, forcing the needle deep into the temple of the surprised assailant. My success was short lived though, as more orcs had broken through behind us forcing us to whirl around to meet them. Fili was being slowly pushed back, faced with superior numbers and armaments.

I ploughed into one of the new arrivals before it could recover from the drop, forcing it back into the wall next to the kitchen entrance. We struggled there, and it was all I could do to keep the orc from freeing its weapons. Kili was dragged from the bed nearby, Bain and his sisters beset on all sides, and Fili was taking wild swings at the multitude of orcs streaming through the doorway.

I grabbed at the orc by the face with one hand, my other still pinning its sword. My fingers dug in with strength borne of desperation, black blood running rivulets down their length as they burrowed into its flesh. I grabbed and pulled the orcs head away from the wall, then putting my whole bodyweight behind my shoulder, I forced it back into the wood with such ferocity that the orc collapsed in front of me. I reeled around as I saw another spring towards me out of the corner of my eye, but before I could so much as scream, much less avoid danger in some way, I was grabbed by the throat and forced with all the momentum of a charging orc into the corner of the room.

My back met the wall, and the orc began to tighten its grip on my throat. I struggled for air, my hands scratching and scraping, trying to find purchase on the arms of the vicious killer. The orc sneered, and then its other hand roughly grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted my head to one side exposing my bare neck above its other hand. Jaws opened and revealed horrible filed teeth through which rancid breath reeked, and my gasps for air turned to whimpers.

My eyes then grew wide, and my struggling abated as I noticed Tauriel, the Mirkwood Captain, unexpectedly enter Bard's home through the open front door. I wanted to call out to her, cry for help, but I could make no sound. The room suddenly erupted into a maelstrom of blades as the elf warrior wrought fury on her foes.

Yet my own assaulter remained unimpeded, and he lunged forward to rip my throat out - right up until a strung bow descended from overhead and around the orc's neck. Another elf, Legolas, forcibly yanked the creature away and then quickly snapped its neck. He pulled free his bow, glaring down at the now fallen orc for a moment. He then turned his gaze to me. I stared dumbly back, drawing raspy breaths.

"You are fine." He stated, and then whirled away, drawing his daggers to join the battle. I, however, did not, and simply watched our rescuers in action while trying to stay well out of the way. Though it sounded like Legolas' words were in admonishment for my slow recovery, I couldn't help but feel like that was some unpractised attempt at reassurance on his part.

The battle lasted under three minutes, and ended as quickly as it had begun.

I stood fixated on the scene of carnage and destruction all around me. My strength was drained and my muscles were beginning to shake. I raised an unsteady hand to my aching throat, and then my mind caught up with me. We were attacked. Kili was dying. Bofur was nowhere to be seen, the first to die perhaps. It was almost too much to bear.

"You killed them all." Bain said in awe as his sisters emerged from underneath the table.

"There are others." Legolas stated as he stalked towards the front door. "Tauriel. Come." he ordered.

An agonizing cry then rent the air. Kili's. I forced myself back into motion and ran to him, dropping to my knees alongside Óin and Fili. I could see the darkness of his poisoned blood now creeping up the veins in his neck.

"We're losing him!" Óin said pleadingly, looking up at Tauriel who was staring at the scene with wide eyes, almost appearing in a state of shock herself.

I watched in horror as she blinked a few times then turned away and followed her prince towards the exit. Scrambling back to my feet I rushed forward and grabbed her arm. She easily pulled out of my grasp, looking somewhat affronted. Legolas had lingered on the threshold, where he spoke her name one last time before disappearing after the orc pack. She looked after him and took another step towards the open door.

"Please! He'll die!" I shouted in a strangled voice."There must be something you can do!"

Tauriel hesitated in the door frame. I watched her with blurred eyes as I cried, hoping she would reconsider, but instead she looked away and stepped out into the night. I shook my head, lifting a hand to cover my mouth to try and quiet my sobs. I numbly saw Bofur shove past her and into the house; his worried eyes instantly met mine. He rushed up to me and placed a hand on the side of my face. His eyes wide with questioning fear.

"Are you hurt?" He asked quickly, studying my face as I shook my head, tears still freely falling from my eyes.

"Kili." I said, or at least tried to say. "He's not- he won't make it." I choked out, covering my mouth once more as I continued to shake and sob.

Bofur looked down at Kili, who was yelling incoherently, struggling against the poison that now coursed through much of his body as Óin and Fili knelt beside him, looking at a loss of what to do. Bofur's gaze returned to me, his expression one of numb shock.

I shook my head again and broke down, wrapping my arms around Bofur's neck, clinging to him desperately, hardly believing what may happen, feeling utterly useless. And he held me just as tightly, shoving his face against my neck as his arms wrapped around me. I managed to look up though it all and saw Tauriel watching us, then she looked down at Kili. My crying subsided slightly as she unexpectedly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her and tightly gripping what must have been the kingsfoil plant.

Suddenly she was demanding hot water. I let go of Bofur and he was immediately called over to help Óin and Fili lift Kili onto the tabletop. Sigrid fetched the kettle and poured its contents into a bowl Tilda was holding, then Tauriel began to tear up the plant, dropping the pieces into the steaming water.

"Remove his bandages and clean the area." She ordered me as I approached the table.

I nodded and hastened to untie the strips of cloth Óin had replaced earlier. I noticed Bofur take a few steps away, looking anywhere but Kili's leg. I tried not to blanche when I pulled the last strip of material away, revealing the dark, infected wound. The sickly smell of it tested my resolve as Sigrid handed me a new wet towel and I blotted around the dying flesh. I moved aside as Tauriel approached. Her face seemed to betray a moment, just a few seconds perhaps, of apprehension as she looked at the injury and then to Kili's face. He stilled somewhat, almost appearing to see her through his fever, but was soon struggling once more.

"Hold him still." Tauriel instructed to everyone around him, now showing no traces of emotion. She grabbed his upper thigh and pushed his leg down against the table to keep it from moving. She then pulled out a dagger and we stared at her in shock as she deftly cut through the stitching Óin had threaded that morning, and then rather roughly pulled the torn flesh widely apart. Kili yelled and struggled violently, despite all of us holding him down. Sigrid quickly joined, and called Tilda to come help as well. Bofur, however, still hung back, holding a candle for light nearby but making no move to come closer.

Tauriel then took some of the prepared kingsfoil in her hands. She closed her eyes and began speaking in her own tongue as she rubbed it between them, and then brought them down and pushed the mixture into the wound, causing Kili to yell in agony. She continued speaking, weaving her fluent and unknown words as she pressed down on his leg. We all watched her with fascination, and our grip on Kili lessened as he gradually stopped struggling, and eventually even quieted. When she finished, Kili's breathing steadied and he finally laid still, a hint of colour even returning to his skin. The other dwarves stared at the elf with a glint of awe in their eyes, surely something they would never admit to.

* * *

I helped Sigrid and Bain right some upturned furniture. We quickly realized there was so much damage from the attack that there was not much we could really do that night to improve the appearance of the place, so instead focused on cleaning up broken glass and shards of pottery.

Bofur had taken a spot on Kili's previous sick bed and was sitting on it with his back to the wall, his eyes closed. I wandered over and settled beside him when Sigrid agreed it was time to get some rest.

I absentmindedly watched Tauriel still tending Kili as my eyelids started to become heavy. I smiled secretly as I noticed her fingers entwine with his as she stared down at him with a soft expression gracing her face.

I slumped down in my seat enough to rest my head on Bofur's shoulder, being careful not to let the flap of his hat poke me in the eye as I did so. After a few moments I let my eyes close, but found I needed to open them every few minutes to look around, subconsciously I still did not feel quite safe after the evening's events.

Suddenly I saw a flash of red hair as Tauriel quietly albeit quickly let herself out. Despite my exhaustion I roused myself and sat up.

"I'll be right back." I told Bofur quietly but he just 'hmmmd' at me, his eyes still closed.

I tiptoed across the house and followed the elf outside, but saw no sign of her as I closed the door behind me.

"Tauriel?" I said into the darkness, looking down the dockside but seeing no one. I frowned, wondering why she would simply leave without saying goodbye. I repeated her name once more, taking a few steps alongside the house.

"Up here." I heard a voice utter and I looked up in confusion.

"On the roof?" I asked speculatively, my voice cracking uncomfortably when I tried to speak louder. When she did not quickly respond I began to pull myself up onto a side rail.

"Here." Tauriel offered, appearing over the eaves and reaching down her hand. I hoisted myself up and grabbed it and she pulled me the rest of the way. I scrambled over the damaged shingles and sat down beside her. She had her knees pulled up slightly and she let her gaze wander to the sky. I looked up as well; there were a few patches of stars gleaning through the dark clouds.

"Thank you." I said quietly after a few moments. "For saving him. I know it must have cost you something."

Tauriel didn't respond but she looked over at me, her eyes searching mine.

"You love your dwarf?" She asked suddenly, catching me off guard.

I smiled. "Yes." I said honestly.

"And he loves you." She stated.

"I- I'm not sure. I think so." I replied softly, though I had not heard him say it.

"Dwarves are not known for their affiliation with other races. That they could love outside their own, it's quite unheard of."

I shook my head, smiling slightly. "Not all dwarves are the same." I insisted softly, I paused before continuing as her eyes continued to search mine, looking for... something, validation perhaps.

"Kili, for instance" I continued, very quietly as I knew she would hear me no matter how low I spoke. "He is not like his forebears. He was quick to befriend me when I first joined the company, while some of the others... well, I doubt they shall ever be partial to me, no matter what I do." I paused, but she did not say anything so I continued. "You know, he had wanted me to tell you something if I ever saw you again - and he did not."

Tauriel raised her eyebrows slightly. "Oh?" she questioned lightly. I smiled at her.

"He wanted you to know that he thought you beautiful." I said earnestly. "No, exquisite was the word he chose in the end."

For a moment I could have almost forgotten she was an elf, as across her face played an array of emotions I could clearly read. She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, at a loss for words, then looked down, biting her lip and holding back a smile, and I swear a slight blush graced her high cheeks.

"Anyway," I said distractedly, taking a deep breath and shrugging as Tauriel glanced at me once more. "Have you ever seen a dragon?" I asked, twirling my braid around my finger.

"No." Tauriel replied, looking towards the mountain. "And I had never expected to."

We both paused as we heard the door of Bard's house open and suddenly I heard my name. I smiled at Tauriel and she grinned and nodded at me as I moved to the edge of the roof. I peered over the edge.

"Can you catch me?" I asked mischievously. Bofur stepped back and looked up, a smile cracking across his face.

"What are you doin' up there now?" He asked as I swung my legs over the edge.

"I oftentimes have business on rooftops." I replied tartly. "Catch me?" I repeated, scooting closer to the edge, the drop wasn't high, but I likely wouldn't be able to land on my own without hurting myself.

"Come on then." He said, holding up his arms.

I glanced back at Tauriel, she smiled and shook her head in amusement, and I smiled back then looked down to Bofur and pushed myself off the ledge, shrieking slightly as I dropped. I felt his arms slide up my legs and my momentum slowed as his hands came to rest below my arms and he took on my weight. I laughed as he set me on my feet.

The corners of his eyes squinted as he smiled and he kept his hold on me, but suddenly his smile disappeared and I heard his breath catch. His hand moved to my neck, barely touching my skin as he trailed his fingers along the bruise I'm sure was forming across it.

"I'm alright." I reassured him softly, reaching up and touching my throat as well. His frown deepened.

"I'm never there when you need me." He said sadly, dropping his gaze from mine. "I'm no good at protecting you."

"I don't need protecting." I said quietly, finding his sleeves and putting my cold hands up them, grabbing onto his arms. "And without the kingsfoil, Kili would have died, so do not, for a moment, feel bad about being away from me to help save him tonight."

I stooped down slightly and pressed my forehead to his, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Bofur," I said, my mouth temptingly close to his, but I grinned and ignored it. "Are you, by any chance, scared by the sight of blood? You avoided looking at Kili's leg at all costs... but you seemed fine when I was getting my shoulder stitched up."

The side of his moustache quirked up slightly in amusement. "I usually don't do well with that kind of stuff." He admitted lightly. "With you I, ah, faked it. I wanted to help in what little way I could... And I didn't want you to think me a coward."

I smiled, brushing my lips against his. "I would never think that." I whispered.

Another deep tremor then rumbled from the mountain, causing us to break apart and turn towards it, squinting in apprehension towards the dark cloud shrouded peak. I glanced nervously at Bofur, but his eyes were fixed northwards, his features strained with a new fear. I realized it was not fear of the beast, however, but fear for his brother, his kin, and his friends who were in that mountain with what we were now quite sure was a very alive and clearly very awake dragon.

I could offer no words to him but simply pressed myself against his side, gripping his hand tightly. We both started as Tauriel suddenly landed gracefully beside us.

"We have to go. Now." She demanded curtly as she opened the door and began rousing those inside. After a quick look at each other, we followed her in. Bofur went to try and help Kili to his feet and I grabbed Tilda's coat for her.

"We're not leaving." Sigrid insisted, standing uselessly in the way.

"Not without our father." Bain added adamantly.

"If you stay, your sisters will die. Is what your father would want?" Tauriel asked bluntly as she gathered a few supplies. Bain had no reply for her.

I grabbed Sigrid's arm. "Quickly." I said. "Get your coat on, and pack some food."

"There's no time." Tauriel insisted. "We have to go now."

She led us out the back and down a set of stairs to where a small boat was docked, as was typical for all households in Laketown. No sooner had we piled in and pushed into the narrow canal did we hear a great whooshing overhead and saw a truly goliath form whip through the clouds above.

Death was upon us.

Death, dragon fire, and ruin.


	22. Miserable Tub-Trading Lakemen

Our tiny craft, overburdened as it was, glided out into the canal with all the grace that we could manage. With Fili and Bofur steadily propelling us forward, and Tauriel to guide us, we made for the safety of open water. I perched at the aft of the craft, balanced precariously on the prow behind the rest of the occupants where I kept low to keep the craft as stable as possible. However, I could not help but tilt my head to the skies in attempts to catch a glimpse of the beast as it flew overhead. I was about as curious of the creature as I was terrified of it.

As we finally reached the end of the narrow channel between Bard's house and the next, we found that making progress out of the city would be slow going. We were not the only ones to take to the water. A large array of boats and ships carrying panicked townsfolk jostled together, clogging the city's major arteries. Our vessel was more manoeuvrable and so we were able to make some headway past the larger barges, but not enough.

A fearsome noise struck out over the growing cries and shouts and clamour. The dragon's roar split the air, causing renewed terror, and in the time it took for the beast to let out a breath, the town was cut in two by a wall of flames. The heat was instant, a physical entity that burned our skin and forced shocked intakes of air, searing our lungs. Though coughs wracked our bodies, we carried on.

"We're not moving fast enough." Tauriel stressed, the only one seemingly unaffected by the dragon fire.

As Smaug unleashed his fury I quickly became less interested in seeing the dragon and more interested in never seeing it again. The sheer magnitude of its destructive abilities made me doubt we would be able to escape, and I now felt the horror of that potential deep in my core. Yet in an odd detached way our small boat load was quiet, seemingly relaxed, as we tried to strike the best course through the burning rubble and violent fire whirlwinds in a near businesslike fashion. There was no opportunity to give into fear. It would not help.

The light from the town going up in flames illuminated the waterways further, and in the better light I could make out where we were. I leaned forward and placed a hand on Bofur's shoulder to get his attention over the din, shouting "Turn left here!"

Our sharp turn brought us into shadow once more, an uninhibited side channel leading directly towards the main thoroughfare. No sooner had we turned off than I was forced forwards, instinctively avoiding another heat wave as a jet of flame raced down the canal we had just turned off of and sending a plume of instantly evaporated water up after us.

Everyone looked back at the carnage. After recovering, I glanced up at them, my face frozen with the grim reality that if I hadn't encouraged the change in course, we would all be dead. Bofur met my gaze, removing a hand from his pole to grab my shoulder briefly before he turned forward and pushed us on with renewed vigour.

Our momentum upon entering the main channel was suddenly diverted, and once again I found myself falling forwards, barely able to keep my balance as the entire boat listed to starboard and dipped dangerously low to the waterline. Once steady, I looked up to see the Master's barge, weighed low with gold, churning through the water before us.

"Move it! Move it! Move it!" He badgered incessantly. "Come on, faster!"

Those onboard seemed disinterested in our plight, or anyone else's, as our boat grinded against the side of their craft. In fact, the gold spilling over the side due to our collision was the only thing the Master seemed to care about (besides his own life). He continued to shout at us to back off, fretting over the treasure that was being lost to the depths of the lake.

Our boat was spun sideways by the momentum of their heavy barge until it was on a parallel course. As I drew to the side of their barge, a solid gold vase tipped over their gunwale and into my lap.

They wanted their gold back, did they? I would give it to them.

I stood up, the boat rocking slightly as I did so and causing Fili and Bofur to look back at me in surprise. Undeterred, I heaved the golden missile as hard as I could at the Master, though my movement caused the boat to tip even more, impeding my aim.

The gold pot struck Alfrid, hard, on the back of his head, causing the greasy man to topple over the edge where he spluttered and struggled, imploring the Master or the guards to help pull him back up. The Master ignored the pleas, pressing his barge onwards now that we were no longer impeding its course.

Alfrid desperately swam over to us, attempting to grab the side of our boat and calling out for a paddle.

"Too bad we don't owe you a favour." I snapped, making no move to aid him as we drifted further out of his grasp.

"You'll regret this!" Alfrid shouted, but I shook my head and did not look back.

We sped across the channel and into another alley, passing beneath the shops and into the cool darkness below. We paused at the far edge of the city block, Tauriel holding us in place while she scouted about. As we emerged into the light once more, the entire city burned around us. Over the screams and the groans of burning timbers, a bell's toll rang out, growing louder as we approached, and drawing our attention towards it and the lone bowman atop the bell tower.

"DA!" Bain shouted, prompting his sisters to shout as well.

"Bard..." I gasped, moved by his lone stand against such an invincible foe. Arrow after arrow he fired, each one missing its mark, and at a word from Tauriel any small flicker of hope was quenched.

"They will not penetrate his hide... I fear nothing will."

We drifted on in silence for a moment, watching the bargeman's plight. By the time we noticed what was happening in our immediate vicinity, it was too late to stop Bain from abandoning the craft and racing off to help his father. I turned and shouted for him, reaching out to try and grab him as he swung away on a wooden cargo crane. Bofur's hands grasped my belt and steadied me, drawing me back as Tauriel once again spoke wisdom.

"We cannot go back."

I struggled against Bofur - against the futility of our situation - I knew this town, I could help Bain. This place was my home, no matter what my mother did. These were my people, and Bard was my father's friend... but I realized there was nothing I could do, and sadly sank back to my perch.

We made good time from that point on, and as we turned once more to avoid a blocked passage, I instantly realized where I was. The entire row of houses alongside us was on fire, including my own.

_Let it burn_, I thought, surprising myself with my lack of attachment and emotion over my home and its possessions. The only thing I truly valued in my life now was already sitting in the boat with me.

We then passed through a section of city already crumbling away to ash and we all looked dead ahead, keeping our eyes off of the charred remains and lives lost, save for those precious moments when we could see the bell tower, when Sigrid, Tilda and I would look with foolish hope for signs of Bard's victory. Though she might not admit it, I saw Tauriel looking too.

We were well beyond the city limits when the dragon clawed its way up into the sky, a pirouetting blaze of red amidst the cool white starlight.

Then Smaug fell from that sky forever.

And the bell tower fell with it.

Sigrid pulled her sister close and wept quietly, and so with heavy hearts we joined the ships no longer looking for survivors. The city still burned, blazing at our backs long into the night as we crossed the Long Lake, and as we neared the Eastern shore, the rising sun rose to greet us.

* * *

As we approached the shoreline I watched the collecting townsfolk with growing unease as they yelled and screamed and cried over their losses, dragging bodies and valuables alike from the cold water.

As soon as our boat scraped bottom, Bard's daughters scrambled out and added to the chaotic fray as they cried out for their father. Tauriel and I quickly hopped out after them, soaking our boots as we waded to the rocky beach after the girls before we lost sight of them.

"What will you do now?" Tauriel asked me under her breath as we caught up to where Sigrid and Tilda were looking around and shouting for Bard.

"I'm not sure." I answered honestly, glancing wistfully back at the boat. Bofur and Fili had debarked and were pulling it to shore.

"What will you do?" I asked, looking back to her to see that she too was gazing in the direction of the dwarves.

Her eyes met mine and she grinned sadly. "I'm not sure either." she responded. I grinned back in sympathetic reassurance. How unusually alike our situations were becoming despite our extreme differences. A human woman of no name or background, and an ageless immortal elven captain; yet both with hearts belonging to dwarf men, and both unsure how quite to proceed.

"Oi! You!" A familiar but angry voice rang out and I saw a dark figure stomping towards us. Alfrid's face was twisted in rage, his hair hung in dank wet strands across his forehead, his thick coat still dripping from his time in the cold lake.

I smiled despite myself but began backing up nonetheless.

"Don't you run away, I have a bone to pick with you!" he snarled, shoving Tilda roughly out of the way and knocking her to the ground. Tauriel dropped to help her up, shooting a glare at Alfrid as he passed.

I continued to step back, keeping my features pleasant.

"There is nothing to discuss, Alfrid." I said politely, my hands up in a shrug. "It was every man for himself, you know that. I have nothing to apologize for."

"Is that so?" he sneered, coming to a stop in front of me. "Now, I think you made a very bad decision earlier, one that you'll _very_ much regret."

"What, are you going to arrest me?" I questioned heatedly. "You're not in charge now you realize."

"That is where you are wrong." he rebuked, still glowering. "In the absence of the Master, the power cedes to his deputy, which in this instance, is my good self!"

I laughed mockingly. "Yeah right, I will be dead before I answer to the likes of you." I spat.

He lunged forward and roughly grabbed hold of my wrist. I tried to yank away but he held me firm and twisted my arm enough to make me gasp in pain. I stomped on his foot, causing him to curse, but his grip was strong.

"Maybe that can be arranged." he said, lifting his free hand as if to hit me with it, but suddenly a set of fingers curled around his wrist and held his arm in place.

"You let that hand fall, lad, and I'll break all your fingers." Bofur uttered in a deadly quiet voice close behind Alfrid's shoulder. "Let her go."

Alfrid scowled but released his hold on me. I shot him a glare and took a step back as Bofur withdrew his grasp on Alfrid as well.

"I wouldn't go turning on your own, Alfrid, not now." A new voice said. I smiled in relief as I turned to see Bard and Bain standing nearby. At that moment Tilda and Sigrid broke through the crowd.

"Da!" Tilda shrieked as her and her sister ran into their father's arms. Bofur and I stepped back out of the way, giving the family some space to reunite. Then Bofur took my hand and led me away from of the circle of people that were gathering around Bard.

"Thank you, for back there." I said when we were out of the growing din.

Bofur frowned but nodded, then turned to look at me. "Do human men make a habit of striking their women?" he asked seriously.

I regarded him, trying not to bristle over his accusatory tone, feeling he was condemning my entire race without taking into consideration men like Bard and my father, good men that would never lift a finger to their wives and who rightly deserved respect.

"I'm sure many do." I replied evenly. "But surely some dwarf men run their household with a heavy hand as well?"

"No. We don't." Bofur insisted, shaking his head but maintaining eye contact. "We _cherish_ our women."

I did not know how to respond but instead cast my eyes to the ground. I wasn't sure I believed him. He couldn't possibly know what occured behind the closed doors of every dwarven couple, and it wasn't as if human men made a show putting women in their place - it was often discreet. I swallowed hard as I recalled the moments I'd been backhanded, insulted, or roughly handled against my will. At the time it almost felt normal, and I had not been the only server at the tavern to receive such treatment.

"Well," I said quietly, grinning to hide my distress as I glanced back up at Bofur, "that might be a nice change."

Bofur sighed, his eyes sombre.

"Oh, lighten up." I urged, kicking his boot. "If I hadn't been roughened up a bit, I might not appreciate how good you are to me." I jested, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on his lips.

He gaped at me a moment then pulled me back into a walk.

"You shouldn't joke about that." he said, shooting me a sidelong glance.

"Why not? It's not as if you'll beat me if I do." I continued with a smile, nudging him with my elbow.

"Stop that!" Bofur retorted, but he let go of my hand and instead put his arm around my middle and pulled me against him.

We came to a stop in front of the boat. Fili and Óin were beginning to push it back down the rocky shore and into the water.

"We're leaving." Bofur then said, looking back to me.

I clenched my jaw but nodded in acceptance. I couldn't expect him to linger here when he did not yet know the fate of his brother. Their haste towards the mountain was understandable.

"When will I see you again?" I inquired, trying to keep my voice light.

Bofur frowned, as if in confusion. "You don't want to come with us?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again as I took a moment to catch up with the conversation. "Oh. I didn't think-" I stammered. "I can come?"

Bofur smiled and took my hands. "We weren't about to just leave you here."

I noticed Bofur then focus on something behind me and I turned to see Kili approaching Tauriel, perhaps about to have a similar conversation. Yet then I noticed Legolas stalking towards them through the throng of people. I smiled but quickly tugged out of Bofur's grasp and skipped around the other two in order to cut Legolas off before he interrupted them. I came to a jerking halt directly in front of him, causing him to stop short and look down at me with narrowed eyes.

"I never got to say thank you," I began, slightly out of breath, "for saving me, back at the house."

He nodded curtly then moved to step around me, but I sidestepped to cut him off once more.

"So thank you. That was very... gallant of you." I continued awkwardly. "Did you track the others? Orcs I mean?"

He stared at me with his unsettlingly blue eyes as if I were mad. "I have no desire to discuss my actions with you, dwarf-friend."

"Because I'm a friend of dwarves?" I asked challengingly. "Or because I'm a human? Or maybe because I'm a woman? Either way that's quite disrespectful." I added, trying to keep his attention. "Unless it is simply because you do not know me, then perhaps I can understand your hesitation, but-"

He sighed then physically placed the back of his hand on my upper arm and actually moved me aside in order to pass.

I turned and followed as he came to a stop near Tauriel and Fili. Tauriel immediately stiffened and addressed him, though she was not even looking in his direction.

Kili looked past Legolas and caught my eye. I grimaced, mouthing 'sorry,' before walking around them all and back to the boat. They had managed to get it floating again and Óin was already sitting in it waiting while Fili was thigh-deep in the water holding the boat steady. Bofur had lingered on shore and helped me walk out and board the craft, then he sloshed back to aid Kili as well.

As the dwarves began paddling us away I saw Tauriel, still standing where she had been earlier, watching us depart. I felt a twinge of regret, I should have said goodbye to her. Some part of me had almost expected her to be sitting with us as well. I knew her eyes were only on Kili, but still I raised my hand slightly in a small wave. She bowed her head slightly then turned and followed Legolas, disappearing in the masses.

* * *

We set our course to the mouth of the River Running, and after crossing the lake we headed upriver a ways but found that our progress was insubstantial with our set of inadequate and improvised paddles against the strong current.

We decided to pull into shore to make camp at dusk, but we had no food and very few supplies, so it wasn't exactly camping - more like waiting in extreme discomfort for the sun to rise. The landscape was becoming increasingly barren so the cold wind easily cut through us, but thankfully Óin was able to display his skill and, after an hour or so trying, he managed to light a fire which we gratefully huddled around.

We paddled for a good portion of the next day but when we saw a set of rapids approaching we decided to just bank our small boat and continue on foot.

Our going was slow. Though Kili would push himself as fast as we set the pace and would never admit to needing a break, it was obvious that he was in some pain. So Bofur and I took the lead, walking much slower than usual for Kili's sake and making excuses for excessive stops despite Kili's complaints that we would not make it to Erebor before winter if we kept it up.

He must have been exhausted, however, as when we stopped for the evening he lay down, using Fili's leg as a pillow, and fell asleep almost immediately despite the cold temperature and being on the hard ground.

"Try to get some sleep too, love, you look tired." Bofur insisted quietly.

I nodded and followed Kili suit, gratefully resting my head on Bofur's lap while he agreed to take first watch. I had lost too much sleep and found that my body was now desperate to catch up, regardless of how comfortable I was.

I remember being slightly shuffled what must have been a few hours later as Óin took over watch and Bofur moved to lie down after placing his coat under my head. After then, my dreams became vivid, and dark.

I awoke already sitting up, a strangled sob escaping my throat before I could stop it, my face wet with tears I didn't know I had shed. Bofur's arms were around me in an instant, and I desperately grabbed hold of him.

"... a bad dream, is all." I began to register his soothing words as his hand lightly rubbed my back, but the half forgotten images that had haunted me in sleep started pouring back to the forefront of my thoughts.

"Where's Kili?" I cried out in a panic, releasing Bofur and staring around the dark camp, more tears flooding my eyes as I recalled him in my dreams, blank eyes staring up at me as his life's blood pooled from beneath him.

"I'm here." I heard him call nearby.

I sighed in relief and crawled towards his shadowed figure, coming to rest in front of him, then reached out a hand and placed it on his chest to reassure myself it was not soaked with blood.

"You're alright?" I asked, trying to calm down.

"I'm fine." He replied with a smile, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. "-Besides being startled out of sleep like that. My heart is still pounding."

"Aye, you gave us all quite the fright, miss, screaming out like that." Óin added as got up and put the last of our small wood pile onto the embers.

"Sorry... I don't remember screaming." I mumbled, sitting back on my heels.

"What did you dream of?" Fili asked quietly after a moment, peering at me anxiously.

I shook my head slightly and got to my feet. "It was nothing. I was overtired." I replied lightly, feeling the fear of the nightmare begin to ebb away now that I was fully awake.

I walked back over to Bofur and sat down beside him.

"I'll keep watch until morning." I said to the group, not wishing to close my eyes anymore that night despite the exhaustion my body still felt.

I nudged Bofur with my shoulder when he made no move to lie back down.

"Please, sleep." I urged him quietly. "I will wake you if I hear anything at all."

He studied me and placed a warm hand on my cheek.

"I'm fine." I insisted with a small smile.

"If you start to feel tired-" he began.

"I will wake you, I promise." I finished, nodding obediently.

Bofur grinned at me then settled back into sleep and before long I was listening to the snoring of four dwarves around me as I kept warm next to the fire.

As I watched the horizon ever so slowly grow brighter I began growing anxious, wishing for dawn to finally arrive so we could carry on.

Erebor awaited. Our journey's end.


	23. Gold Beyond Sorrow

The next morning we began our ascent up the rocky slopes towards the mountain. Towards midday, however, it was no longer Kili slowing us down, but myself, as I struggled to keep pace with the others. My breathing grew steadily more laboured as I forced myself to keep climbing.

"I'm sorry." I huffed as Bofur stopped and held out his hand, taking hold of my arm when I caught up to him.

"Not much longer." he exclaimed, helping me up another rise. "Look."

I lifted my head to see we had finally made it over the ridge and the massive entrance of Erebor was now visible in the distance, flanked on both sides by giant dwarves carven out of the stone itself.

"Wow." I whispered in awe. Bofur grinned, but I could see the apprehension behind his eyes and I knew he was anxious to see if the others were alright.

Before the mountain, however, lay the city of Dale on the westward edge of the valley, its sprawling ruin looking rather ominous in its quiet, abandoned solitude.

I glanced back behind me and could see the entirety of the lake below us, now many leagues away, smoke still rising from the burnt shell of the town.

Bofur squeezed my arm before continuing after the others. We made good time from there, as the terrain levelled out in the passage between the mountains. The remaining distance to Erebor itself, however, had been vastly deceptive. I noticed that once we began passing Dale on our left, our final destination was still quite far ahead when it had previously looked much nearer to Dale due to the sheer colossal size of the grandiose mountain-side entrance.

We crossed the last field in reflective silence and I gaped at the age old statues flanking the entrance, wondering how such immense figures could even be created.

We approached and climbed the steps together, yet no one said a word as we gawked for a moment at the immense fissure that spanned upwards from the door itself where the dragon had burst clean through the thick mountain wall.

The dwarves suddenly sprinted forward, catching me off guard. I followed them over the stone bridge, glancing down at the frozen river below before hurrying inside. The first thing I noticed was the cold, a stifling windless chill and oppressive silence.

"Hello!" Bofur shouted, his voice echoing throughout the grand yet relatively demolished entrance hall. "Bombur? Bifur? Anybody!?" he continued desperately as we picked our way through the debris further in, but we heard no response. All was quiet.

"They might be in the lower levels." Kili said optimistically. The others nodded and, after some debate over what direction to actually go in, as none of us had ever been to Erebor before, Fili grew impatient and took the lead.

The immensity of Erebor became quickly overwhelming as we made our way through a few dark hallways and into a vast cavern. Despite the dank chill of the place I was soon sweating and huffing once more, silently cursing the dwarves' ceaseless stamina as we carried on. I tried to glance around at my surroundings but soon we were sprinting down narrow stairwells with no siding and I found I needed to keep my eyes fixed on only the path and my own feet lest I simply pitch over a ledge and plummet unceremoniously to my death. Several times I had to come to a near crawling pace as I ever so carefully crossed narrow free-floating archways that seemed miles above any other structure. The dwarves, however, seemed able to simply run across such bridges without as much as a worried glance over the edge.

"This place is a death-trap." I mumbled to Bofur as he was forced to come help me across a particularly damaged overpass.

My point was accentuated a moment later when, following a rather steep descent down a stairwell I found that in my fatigue I couldn't recover in time for the sharp turn at the bottom, and needed to grab hold of Bofur's sleeve to stop myself.

"Did Smaug have an obsessive aversion towards hand rails?" I wondered aloud to Bofur as we stepped onto yet another unsafe catwalk. "It seems all the ones down here have gone missing."

Bofur chuckled, turning to face me and steady me further with hands on both my shoulders. "All this was carved from the solid stone itself," he spread his hands to gesture about him. "...railings would be a lot of extra work. Besides," he added with a grin as he began backing away, his feet carrying him directly along the edge so much so that his boots hung out over it. "We don't need 'em."

I smiled and shook my head a little in disbelief at his surefootedness, but breathed easier when he finished his little display and turned forward to catch up to the others.

I began wondering if we would ever be able to find our way out of Erebor, or, if the others happened to be alive, what the odds were of ever finding them before we perished ourselves from starvation, lost forever in the depths of the mountain.

But then a voice rang out.

"WAIT!" it shouted.

We all slowed, coming to the bottom of another stairway.

"WAIT!" it repeated and we could now hear footsteps padding quickly towards us.

"It's Bilbo! He's alive!" Bofur exclaimed happily.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" The hobbit ordered as he came running into our corridor, his hand out in a halting motion.

"You need to leave." Bilbo huffed as he came to a stop in front of us. "We _all_ need to leave." he urged, without so much as a quick greeting or even a happy exclamation that we were still alive as well.

"We only just got here." Bofur retorted, the smile falling from his face.

"I tried talking to him, but he won't listen." Bilbo carried on gravely.

"Wh...what do you mean, laddie?" Óin interjected.

"Thorin!" he stated so loudly that it caused all of us to jump. "Thorin." he continued quickly, lowering his voice and fixing each of the dwarves with a serious look as he spoke. "Thorin, he's been down there for days. He doesn't sleep, he barely eats. He's not been himself, not at all. It's this... it's this place. I think a sickness lies upon it."

We all glanced at each other worriedly, save for Fili, who seemed to be focused on something beyond Bilbo.

"Sickness? What kind of sickness?" Kili asked, but Bilbo was unable to respond as Fili suddenly and wordlessly shouldered past his brother and started down the stairs that the hobbit had just climbed to intercept us.

"Fili!" Bilbo shouted as he started after the dwarf.

We all followed and as we rounded a bend in the stairs there below shone a golden light. Fili ran towards the source and we soon passed under a large entranceway, then suddenly we emerged from a small covered alcove and I almost stumbled down the last few steps as my eyes took in what lie before us.

Gold.

It covered the hall in vast mounds, even the stairwells simply disappeared into it. More gold then I could possibly comprehend.

I glanced at Bofur. He was staring down at it in wonder, as were the others, a smile growing on his lips.

The tinkling of coins gave us warning when Thorin suddenly emerged.

"Gold... Gold beyond measure." he muttered as he stepped into the hall, his eyes transfixed on the coins underfoot. "Beyond sorrow... And grief." Then his gaze drifted upwards and he seemed surprised, for a moment, to see us standing there.

"Behold! The great treasure hoard of Thror." Thorin uttered before casting his gaze down. Then quickly and without warning he hurled something up at us. I stepped back in fear but Fili easily caught the projectile. I looked over to see him holding a large red gemstone, but both he and Kili were frowning.

"Welcome, my sister's sons," Thorin announced, widening his arms, "to the Kingdom of Erebor."

* * *

There was something unsettling about Thorin, he seemed detached, and as Bilbo had said, _not himself_, especially when Fili asked about the others and Thorin simply flourished his hand in a general direction, his attention once again focused on the treasure around him.

We made our way down, carefully treading over the coins, and into the corridor it seemed he had indicated towards. Luckily torches had been lit along this pathway so we followed the light until we heard voices. Bofur rushed ahead and burst into the next room.

I smiled but hung back in the doorway as the others shouted in joy and began to embrace their comrades. I saw Bombur wander up, his arms outstretched for his brother and I felt a weight I didn't even know I had been carrying lift off my chest. I was so busy watching them that I started in surprise when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and I was lifted off the ground as Dwalin unexpectedly but enthusiastically hugged me.

"Good to see you, lass." he growled as he let me go. Suddenly I was tugged into the fray, being embraced and clapped on the back and group-hugged along with everyone else. I felt a surge of happiness and love towards these dwarves at being included and welcomed just the same as their kin.

The happiness, however, was short-lived as Thorin sauntered in and the room immediately quieted. He looked around with slightly unfocused eyes.

"Don't you all have work to do?" he questioned in a low and deadly voice. "Or has the Arkenstone been found?" He raised his eyebrows at Balin who shook his head.

"There will be no rest until it is." Thorin continued. "Out! All of you!"

The dwarves stiffly obeyed and I made my way to the door as well but my progress was halted as Thorin reached out and wrapped his fingers around my arm.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in little more than a whisper, not meeting my eye.

I began to stammer an answer and glanced to the door, hoping to see a few dwarves surreptitiously hanging back, but I was alone.

"It would not have been my choosing to host a human in Erebor before even the rest of my kin. We helped you to Laketown, is that not enough?... That is where you belong."

I looked back at Thorin, my gaze hardening.

"Make yourself useful, or I may find you're not worth the cost to feed you." he said in my ear, loosening his grip. I tugged the rest of the way out of his grasp and stormed out.

When I returned to the hoard I crashed into the nearest pile of gold and began roughly sifting through it, cursing under my breath.

"Bloody Thorin. Damn this treasure. Damn the Arkenstone. What the hell is it even?" I glanced up to see Bilbo watching me critically.

"What does it even look like?" I snapped at him.

He blinked a few times and took a few cautious steps towards me.

"Um, well, it's a large, white jewel. Or so I've been told." he stammered, shrugging slightly.

I sighed and nodded, letting my gaze trail across the mass of treasure. It stretched on as far as I could see, and there was no telling how deep the piles even were.

I groaned loudly. "Well, should be easy enough." I said sarcastically. Bilbo grinned then moved along to search another area.

The hours past slowly. I found probably a hundred large white gems and made piles of them, hounding any dwarf that came near enough to check them over. It annoyed me to no end that they would barely glance at my collection before telling me that I had not yet found it.

"You'll know when you see it." Was all they would say, which was the vaguest and _most _unhelpful comment they could supply.

"Any sign of it?" Thorin demanded from his vantage on an upper balcony.

"No." Someone shouted back.

I kicked around some jewels, wanting to pull Thorin down from his watchful perch to painstakingly search through the mass with us since he wanted the thing so badly.

"No one rests until it is found!" I heard Thorin shout and I clenched my jaw in anger. I had no possible idea what time it was, but I was exhausted, and thirsty, and hungry besides... plus had to tend to _other_ needs as well, but I simply didn't know where to go.

After another hour or so I had reached my limits. I looked around but saw that Thorin had retreated and was currently not supervising our efforts. I forced my aching legs to move, my ankles rolling painfully as I tried to prevent myself from falling with every step. I struggled to keep balance, growing more and more frustrated while pushing through the sliding coins, making very slow progress, but finally I found Bofur. Yet when I came to a loud stop behind him, he did not even seem to notice my presence.

I stepped forward and lightly touched his hand, causing a few coins to spill out of his grasp. His eyes followed the coins as they dropped, then he looked at me, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Can you come with me to find some water? And maybe a bed? I really need to sleep." I inquired quietly.

"Sleep?" he repeated distractedly. "Why would you want to sleep? Look at this place." He glanced around almost hungrily.

"Please, Bofur, I cannot search any longer-"

"I know. We shouldn't be wasting our time on one gem." Bofur interrupted, shaking his head. "We should be focusing on all of this." He bent down and picked up another handful of the gold. "Thorin is blind to it, but the Arkenstone is nothing, _nothing_, compared to the wealth within these halls." he began letting the coins fall through his fingers as he watched them.

"Bofur, what's wrong?" I demanded.

He looked at me with a small frown and shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing could possibly be wrong. Look at it..." he turned back, gesturing across the mountains of coins that lay all around us.

I nodded irately. "I see. This is why you went on the quest then. This all you wanted?" I asked dully.

He glanced at me absentmindedly. "It's all we need. All I ever needed." he muttered with a grin.

I could tell I wasn't getting through to him. His eyes remained dark, never meeting mine.

I looked around helplessly, but the others nearby seemed to be in similar states, moving like the walking dead between and through the piles of wealth amassed around them.

I took a step back, away from him, and my foot caught on a buried step, causing me to fall backwards. My hands shot out behind. I hissed when my wrists twisted as they took the impact on the unstable surface. Bofur turned to look at me - no, not at me, but at the gold now swirling around me. He made no move to help me up, more focused on the cascade of glittering prizes than my well-being. I pushed myself back to my feet and shoved past him angrily.

I followed the weaving trail of torchlight back towards the upper levels, lamenting my current state and wondering if I would have been better use with Bard and the refugees of Laketown. The need to relieve myself was also becoming near unbearable and I was seriously beginning to consider simply peeing in a corner somewhere when a voice called out from down the passageway.

"Thorin, is that you?" The voice was unmistakably Balin's, and I felt a relief that it was not Thorin himself. The aged dwarf, however, seemed disheartened when he initially rounded the bend and saw me instead of his friend.

"Ah, it's you lass... I had hoped... well, never mind that. What brings you up this way all alone?" he questioned, his voice friendly and his eyes clear and alert which I was thankful for after dealing with Bofur.

I suddenly felt a surge of emotion and blinked back a few tears; I swallowed hard then hoped my voice would not betray my despondence.

"I- ah- I was hoping to find a place to sleep, and a..." I hesitated, unsure what kind of facilities Erebor might have, "well, a chamberpot at the least."

Balin nodded, his expression kind. "Of course, dearie, of course. Come, I'll show you the way."

Balin led me further up through the expanse of the kingdom, which I was beginning to realize was at least ten times larger than Bree and Laketown combined. In my current plight, however, I was finding it hard to appreciate the enlightenment that the aging dwarf was providing.

"...and this corridor leads to the royal kitchens. Bombur hasn't had the chance to clean them out and take stock, given our current, ah, more important task. We've been making do in one of the lower store rooms for now..."

I looked politely, but my discomfort must have been more obvious than I thought, since the dwarf cut off and quickened his pace.

"I'm sorry..." He added as we moved on, passing - much to my disbelief - halls more extravagant (despite soot, dust and debris) than even those we saw initially. "It's hard not to reminisce." I assured him it was alright, but was thankful for the haste we were now making.

When we neared at our destination, I began to speculate that the 'room' Balin was showing me to was, in reality, much more than that. We entered a grand hallway with torches lit in sconces all the way down, each one next to a doorway. As we turned into the hallway, he claimed one of the torches to bring with us. Fifteen doors down, he bade me into a room without a torch at the door, passing me the light source.

"I'm sorry I didn't have time to tidy it up. I didn't know whether to expect you or..."

I entered the room, which turned out to be one of the most lavish apartments I had ever seen. I was surprised, having thought that dwellings underground would appear more like caves, with little luxury or comfort, yet besides the cold, the room was lovely and better furnished than anything I had ever before lived in. I turned about to admire the large space, and then noticed Balin was still waiting in the doorway, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Are you sure it's alright I stay in here?" I questioned incredulously. Balin grinned and nodded once.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed with a smile, finally glad for some kindness as I rushed forwards to hug him tightly.

"Ah-" He lifted his arms up, then hugged me in return and patted me on the back. As I drew back, he added "Oh, and the plumbing still works - believe it or not - and you won't have to share with anybody." He waved a hand to a door off to one side, and then nodded.

"Right then, I'll leave you to it... I'll make sure to keep the torches lit to and from this wing. I'd advise you not to wander. It would be only too easy to get lost, especially given the state of things..." he added somewhat wistfully.

I assured him I would stick to the lighted path, and with that he turned and meandered back down the hallway, his hands clasped behind his back.

I expected that he, too, was happy to spread a little kindness.

* * *

The privy in my quarters was, as promised, fully functional, with an attached room leading to a separate bathing area which was comprised of a small, yet deep, inset pool full of slightly bubbling hot water fed from a geothermal pipe.

I was so weary, however, that I simply washed my face, pulled off my dirty clothes and fell into my large, slightly dusty smelling bed, with plans to bathe more thoroughly when I awoke.

I was surprised to be pulled out of sleep by light falling across my face. I opened my eyes a crack and, when my vision had cleared, I looked up. High on the wall opposite the door was a series of tall narrow openings I had not noticed in the room's darkness the night before. The light was hazy and faint, but still much brighter than torchlight, and I realized upon closer inspection that this was due to the light's point of origin far beyond the walls of my room, the source likely hidden away in some nook untouched by the desolation on the outer slopes.

I was grateful for the taste of natural light or else I might have lost all sense of time.

After a long bath that was almost too hot for my liking (but certainly helpful in removing the chill from my body), I slouched on a short robe that was hanging near the door then explored my rooms looking for something to wear. My quarters were divided into a two separate spaces: a moderate sitting area with an assortment of cosy yet regal seats placed about a fireplace, and a large fully furnished bedroom. I ran my hands along the dresser, the wood was stained dark and was embellished with intricate carvings, nothing like the graceful sweeping designs I remembered in the elven kingdoms, but flawless, repeating geometric patterns. I looked through its drawers and then in the armoire, but found nothing else in terms to wear, save for a few frilly, moth-eaten undergarments that definitely did not fit. I crinkled my nose and resorted to pulling on my usual and now much wrinkled garb.

When my hair was almost dry, I poked my head out into the hallway and noticed another similar, albeit larger, light source filtering down at the end of the hall, likely a similar design to that in my room but this one reflected multi-coloured facets from strategically placed gems that the light filtered through.

A nearby door swung open and Kili stepped out.

"Ah, you managed to escape as well." he said with a grin when he saw me. "Do you like your room? We're in the royal suites... I expect most of the common quarters are quite shabby in comparison."

"It's wonderful." I replied with a smile, happy to see that Kili was acting like himself. I then hesitated a moment, biting my lip. "Did any of the others get to sleep?" I asked tentatively after a moment.

He frowned and shrugged. "I don't know."

I frowned as well, leaning casually against the corridor wall.

"Do you really think a sickness lies on this place?" I asked, thinking of not only Thorin's, but also Bofur's unusual behaviour.

He stepped towards me. "I don't know what Thorin is going through." Kili explained softly, then his face lit up slightly and he gently picked up and studied my courting braid. "That's lovely." he added off-handedly before he looked up at me. "As for the rest, it just takes some longer than others, to get over the gold lust. Hopefully they'll all come around in the end."

"Gold lust?" I repeated questioningly.

Kili nodded. "Fili has it bad right now. All you can do is try to remind them that there are some treasures more important than gold... Are you hungry?" He asked while patting my shoulder, a most welcome subject change for the both of us. "I think Bombur is the only one besides me who got out of search duty - sure, he can cook, but I suppose Thorin could also be afraid he'd sink in the gold piles and take the Arkenstone with him." He smiled and winked in jest then held out his arm. I grabbed hold and we made our way back down the route Balin had escorted me up the previous night.

Kili eventually diverted from the path and we headed down towards the storerooms.

"Nori was saying that there still seems to be ample provisions since the dragon did not destroy anything below a certain level. Nothing fresh, of course, but enough for a while at any rate. Now that game is returning to the mountain, we can hunt before winter to add to the stores as well." Kili explained as we walked.

We were fortunate that when we arrived Bombur was indeed there and looked to be putting the final touches in a large pot of steaming broth. The room was large, but cluttered considering the front had been haphazardly cleared to make space for four large tables and benches for the company to sit at. At the back there were numerous shelves laden with glass jars of preserves and boxes and sacks of dried goods. Much of the floor space was taken up by large storage barrels and amidst it all a black iron woodstove had also been placed, with a makeshift counter nearby for food preparation. An array of pots and utensils littered almost every other free surface as well.

"Looks like we're just in time for breakfast." I said jovially, more than ready for a hot meal.

"Lunch actually." Kili corrected, walking to the back and grabbing a bowl off a stack of them and passing it to me. He took one to himself and greeted Bombur who lifted the lid and moved aside so we could dish up. I thanked him liberally, especially when he gave us each a large chunk of warm brown bread, though of course he simply bobbed his head but said nothing in return.

Kili and I nearly matched pace as we, in the most undignified manner possible, practically inhaled our meals. We were almost done when Nori, Ori and Dwalin came in looking for food. Smiling at each other briefly, Kili and I straightened up, wiped our faces and finished up more civilly.

"How is your leg?" I asked, dipping the last of my bread into the last of my broth.

"I just walked you down a dozen flights of stairs and halfway through a mountain." he replied blatantly, holding a matter-of-fact stare for a moment before grinning from ear to ear. "Much better, really."

I smiled. "Well that's good. I can't imagine Dwalin would have taken to the idea of carrying even a prince of Durin to and from his bedchambers."

When we were through Kili said he was going to track down his brother and I took the bowls up and gave them a rinse at a corner fountain Bombur had pointed me towards. I thanked him again then took off, trying to retrace my steps back up and towards the treasure hall. Balin had kept his word and the torches were still alight.

* * *

It took me ages to find Bofur. I eventually concluded that he was not amidst the gold piles; though I spent a good portion of the afternoon sliding over top them, growing more and more aggravated by the minute.

None of the others knew either, except Gloin, who seemed to have been trying to count the gold rather than search through it. He seemed rather put-off to be pestered by me, but begrudgingly nodded down one dark corridor saying he thought he saw him go down it earlier.

I frowned towards it, debating on whether or not I should ignore Balin's advice and venture down an unlit tunnel alone. Eventually Gloin cleared his throat impatiently, clearly wishing for me to vacate his personal space. I hastily thanked him and made my way towards the corridor. Surprisingly he yelled after me to watch my footing, stating that the path may not be sound. I waved at him and grabbed the nearest wall torch before entering the passageway. I held my light low to the ground, trying to ward off the slight fear that prickled my skin at venturing into a darkened tunnel. Gloin was right, some areas of the passage had collapsed, forcing me to slowly pick my way over large boulders and keep a careful eye out for crevices. I fervently hoped that the dwarves and I were the only living beings left inside the mountain.

Finally I saw a dim light ahead and soon came to the end of the corridor. As I emerged from the darkness I saw a familiar figure holding a torch and standing next to a wall on the edge of a large chasm.

"Bofur?" I questioned softly as I stepped up next to him and leaned forward a little to look down.

The pit was bottomless. The light from our torches spread meagrely out along the walls of the expanse before us, but did not reach even one tenth of the way around, let alone to the far side. Darkness pressed in against us, and with the emptiness of space above, and below, and only a step away, I felt dizzied. I took a fumbled step back. My light spread out along the ledge we stood on once more, illuminating a machination - a damaged mining crane from the looks of it - and other assorted tools of the trade scattered where they were left the day the dragon came.

"This is where it all came from." Bofur said suddenly, his voice strained and lacking its usual spirit. I looked at him and he continued. "The gold. It was mined right here. Look." He held up his torch to the wall beside him and I saw a blaze of shining yellow trailing through the dark grey stone. "There's still more. We could get more..." He trailed his hand across the gold seam, slowly, lovingly, as I stared on in discomfort.

"More..." I repeated slowly. "Bofur, there's already plenty."

He glanced at me, his expression one of someone who does not understand. He leaned forward suddenly and I gasped, reaching out and quickly taking hold of his coat, for some reason afraid that he was going to jump off, but he simply let go of his torch and watched it fall, his eyes darkening as the golden flickering of light dropped into the unfathomable depths.

"Bofur. Please, come with me. You need to rest." I urged, moving my hand down and grasping his. His fingers did not curl around mine like they usually did, but he at least allowed me to pull him away from the edge a step. His gaze however, wandered back and settled on the vein of gold, only slightly glimmering from my distant torchlight.

I moved his hand up to my hair, forcing him to trail his fingers along the courting braid he had placed in it only a few nights prior. I paused at the bead he had fashioned, the bead of simple wood that I loved so dearly even though it was, in essence, worthless - but it was priceless to me, worth more than any amount of gold in these halls. I needed to know he felt the same. Finally Bofur looked up at me but his eyes were dull and my heart plummeted.

"Bofur," I whispered pleadingly, moving his hand slowly down over my chest and placing it on my hip, covering it with my own to hold it in place. "Please. Stop all this... I need you."

I moved forward and placed my lips gently on his, but he barely responded. His indifference - gold lust or not - began to anger me. I huffed in irritation, grabbed his arm with my free hand and shook him, hard, which finally got a reaction from him.

"Fine, lass, I'll give you what you need." he growled as he yanked my torch out of my grasp and flung it to the ground where it sputtered but, fortunately, stay lit. He then roughly spun me around and yanked me back against him, his one hand holding me firm across the chest against his body while the other he shoved down the front of my trousers.

I struggled, trying to tug out of his grasp and shrieking out his name in shock and indignance, but he took no notice and continued to stroke his fingers along me. Soon my body began reacting to his touch and eventually my struggling slowed. Mentally I still knew it wasn't right, that I should fight him off... but part of me longed for his warmth, his closeness, and part of me hoped it would help him lust for me again - instead of the gold.

When I became wet he slid his fingers into me, somewhat jarringly, but then he began alternating his techniques and I soon felt my body begin to tense in anticipation, my breathing ragged and uneven. His hand found my breast and squeezed it, and then I was right on the brink. I tossed my arm up around his neck, leaning fully into him as I climaxed.

I sighed in pleasure and moved to turn around, to kiss him and let him have me fully, but he quickly let go, and stepped away from me so abruptly that I fell to my knees, my body still weak and trembling from its release.

He picked up my torch and then, to my horror, began walking away.

"Bofur!" I called, quickly standing up and moving to follow, but already the darkness was closing in around me, I tripped over a rock and then frantically stumbled forward, arms outstretched, trying to chase the disappearing light. Soon it was gone altogether and I had barely made it to the opening of the tunnel.

"BOFUR!" I screamed, but he did not return.

I fell to my knees once again, sobbing as I roughly yanked out my braid.

* * *

I jolted awake when I heard a gruff voice echoing through the cavern. I blinked, but could make out nothing through the darkness; it was a most unsettling sensation. Still I lifted my head from the rock wall, my neck sore from the uncomfortable position I had somehow fallen asleep in.

"Hello?" I called out, quietly at first, and then again with more urgency. My voice echoed about, and I began to worry that the voice I heard had been just that - some far away echo. I scrabbled to my feet, and took a few tentative steps forward, my hand against the wall for stability.

Then I saw a light, and my spirits rose slightly as it soon became evident that it was not some imagined apparition behind my eye, but an actual physical light growing larger by the second. Gloin then emerged around a bend in the tunnel, holding a large torch ahead of him. I had never been so happy to see that particularly stern dwarf in all my time with the company and I took a few rushed but cautious steps towards him when he was near enough to illuminate the path ahead of me.

"You won't find the Arkenstone down there, girl." he said grumpily, though beneath his heavy eyebrows I could tell that he wasn't scowling quite as heavily as he usually did. "Come on - it's nearly time for supper." With that, he beckoned me to follow. I removed my hand from the wall and sidled up next to him, nodding silently. He took that as a sign to move on, and so we walked back down the tunnel side by side.

* * *

As we exited the threatening passageway and returned to the safety of the well-lit expanse of the treasure hall, my temper had an opportunity to fester and grow. I left Gloin in a foul silence, and sought out Bofur with scornful vengeance.

Surprisingly I found him not amidst the coins, but in the makeshift dining hall. He was sitting down with many of the others, and for a moment I hoped that he had come to his senses, but no boisterous conversation graced the hall as I had come to expect from a group of dwarves and I knew it wasn't so.

"Bofur. A word please." I demanded loudly from the entrance, causing everyone's head to suddenly swivel in my direction, everyone except Bofur who, infuriatingly slowly, looked towards me over his shoulder. The whole table sat frozen for a moment, then glances began to shift nervously between he and I. He pushed his food away from him, again so slowly that it made me clench my jaw in frustration. Finally he rose to his feet, not meeting my eye, but my patience had run clean out.

I growled in exasperation as I stormed towards him and before I could stop myself my hand had snapped out and struck him across the face. His hat tumbled off to the floor as his head jerked to the side, and the resounding smack made the room fall into an even heavier silence. He finally looked at me, though still seemed in a daze. Before my nerve faltered, I grabbed one of his hands and shoved the simple wooden courting bead into his grasp, forcing his fingers closed around it between my hands.

"You were all I had left in the world," I said, some of the anger within me giving way to sadness, "and I am_ in love_ with you..." I squeezed his hand slightly but kept my gaze hard. "But you have _humiliated_ me." I hissed.

I stared at him a moment longer. His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, did nothing. I released his hand, then turned on my heel and began to exit the hall.

"If you can sort lust from love," I shouted back, "you know where to find me."

* * *

A lone dwarf stood on the edge of the precipice, the gaping maw of Erebor's mineshaft open before him. Torchlight danced down the sides of the pit, it's ever shifting patterns causing the gold to run in rivulets down into the depths. Such _wealth_. Such _potential_. The dwarf stood wide eyed, willing his eyes to adjust beyond their natural capacity to see further into the heart of the mountain.

His free hand reached up to brush his fingers through his hair. His hat must still lie where it had fallen so long ago - hours, days, he could not tell how long he had been here. He had the feeling of a waking dream, conscious but not in control. His eyes caught the sparkle of gold once more, and a hand reached down into his pouch for one of the coins secreted away there - just to touch, to hold, to get a feel for the precious metal.

As he fished for the coin he turned and placed his torch in a wall sconce. Two hands were needed to fully appreciate the intricate designs on the coin's surface, to feel the weight of it. When his hand finally withdrew from the pouch, it held a solid golden coin, and a simple wooden bead.

Again he traced his fingers over the gold seam running along the wall, but the gold's lustre had worn off. He turned away and returned to the pit's edge, transferring the golden coin to his now free hand.

The events of the last several days suddenly rushed back with such a force that the dwarf had to clench his fists tight around the objects he held, steadying himself on the edge of darkness. He turned, holding his hands out over the emptiness. A deep breath drew in, and then released. One fist opened.

The golden coin tumbled down into the darkness, catching the last glints of light before vanishing to the gloom.


	24. Because It Was Real

I allowed myself a good while to cry in bed; mentally falling into a place even darker then the cavern Bofur had abandoned me in, and feeling as sorry and pathetic as I needed to. Finally I got up and went for a soak, woefully washing away the tiny waves, the last reminder of Bofur's courting braid, from my hair. I felt slightly better after drying off - warmer and more relaxed at any rate. I curled up in my too-short robe on a leather armchair in the living space, wishing the storeroom wasn't so far away as I was beginning to feel somewhat hungry.

My stomach flopped uncomfortably when I heard a knock on my door. I went to open it, wondering what I would say if it was Bofur. It wasn't him, however, but Dori and Ori.

Dori was carrying an armload of cut wood while Ori balanced a tray with a teapot and, _thank the dwarven gods_, a plate of scones.

"Ah pardon us, miss," Dori stammered, his eyes fleeting down to my bare legs then quickly away. "We can come by at a better time."

I smiled, blushing slightly as I pulled my robe tighter around me. "No, please, come in." I insisted happily, standing aside and holding the door open. "I apologize; I do not have much to wear." I explained as they awkwardly shuffled in.

I excused myself for a moment, closing the door of my room to quickly pull on my leggings and tunic before joining them back in the sitting area. Dori was arranging some of the wood in the fireplace and Ori was pouring the tea. They immediately relaxed when they saw me more covered. Soon I was enjoying a lovely distraction of a warm fire and a hot drink as the brothers kept up light conversation about some of the other rumoured wonders of Erebor.

"I heard there are caverns of solid ice in the lowest levels, where meat would stay frozen solid all year round." Ori piped in excitedly.

"No, no, no. That don't make sense." Dori rebuked. "Erebor gets warmer as you go down, not colder. I heard there's vast hot springs that would boil you alive if you went for a dip in 'em."

I smiled as they argued and helped myself to another scone. Far too soon for my liking they both stood up, hoping to get some rest before Thorin woke everyone for search duty, as he was apparently prone to do when he thought too many dwarves were absent. Dori left me a small box with flint and steel and showed me the tinder storage so that I could light my fire when I wished to.

"When you run out of logs, just ask one of us to fetch you some." he added as they moved out into the hallway. I thanked them both, and when they clicked the door shut I decided to try and get some sleep as well. I headed back to the bedroom, pulled off my clothes once more and crawled in under the covers, shivering slightly. The fire in the next room didn't quite throw off enough heat to fully warm the bedroom and, though there was a small fireplace across from the bed, I was too weary to light it.

I drifted in and out, finding it hard to keep my thoughts neutral enough to properly doze off. Though I tried to hold them back, the tears came once again unbidden.

Then I heard it, more knocking, this time quiet. So quiet that I had to strain my ears to ensure I was hearing anything at all. But yes, there was a slight tapping, I was sure of it. And I was sure of whom it was.

After donning my housecoat I tiptoed to my door and leaned my forehead against it. The knocking stopped. I exhaled slightly, trying to prepare myself, willing myself to keep my composure. Then I opened the door.

I could tell immediately that he was thinking clearly once again, his presence at my door was testament enough, but he had also washed up. He donned new clothing, his hair was redone, his hat atop his head, his moustache neatly curled... yet all I could look at was his eyes. They were crinkled at the corners with sadness, crystal clear with grief, and they were unmistakably looking at me.

"You've been crying." he whispered.

I opened my mouth to say something, but lost the words before I could vocalize them so instead lifted my shoulder in a slight shrug. He held up his hand to me and between his fingers was a small sprig of flowers, white and delicate and lovely.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness." he began as I tentatively reached out and took his offering. "I don't deserve you. I understand if you want nothing more to do with me, but before you slam the door in my face - like I do deserve - let me at least apologize."

I said nothing but let him gently take my hand.

"I'm sorry." he continued, slowly bringing my hand to his mouth and placing a small kiss upon it. "I am sorry a thousand times over... I was a monster to you."

I studied him for a moment, my heart beating hard in my chest.

"Where did you find this?" I asked suddenly, brandishing the flower.

He looked slightly puzzled by my change of topic but answered nonetheless. "I went for a walk outside, to help sort my thoughts. I, ah, didn't stop walking until I found something worthy to give you."

I offered him a tiny smile. His eyes searched mine but again I stayed silent.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked softly after a moment.

I looked down but shook my head. I heard him exhale slightly, and then he took a small step towards me.

"Amrâlimê." he whispered, carefully placing his hand on the side of my neck and guiding my forehead down to his.

I closed my eyes as they were beginning to water.

"I will forgive you," I began quietly after a few moments, reaching my hands up and lightly placing them around his shoulders, "on one condition."

"Anything." Bofur replied huskily.

"This will be the one and only time you feel bad about what you did. After tonight we both move on... It wasn't you... It wasn't your fault."

He sighed. His fingers weaving through my hair.

"Actually, two conditions." I added, peeking my eyes open to see his lips turn up in a slight grin. "Stay with me, for the rest of the night. I don't care if Thorin personally breaks down the door; we are not leaving bed until I say so."

Bofur straightened up and nodded. "Well I can't refuse a deal like that." he said quietly.

I smiled, noticing a warm glow enter his eyes, as I took his hand and pulled him inside.

* * *

I was able to sleep peacefully for a few hours with Bofur's arms around me. He had been cautious with me, handling me as if I were made of glass. He did not initiate, or assume, and I basically had to force him down on the mattress, resolutely cuddling up next to him and planting a firm kiss on his lips before turning and allowing myself to finally rest soundly.

I awoke to him lightly stroking my hair. I smiled sleepily.

"Good morning." I said softly, not bothering to open my eyes yet.

"Aye, it is." Bofur responded. I turned over to look at him, squinting slightly as the beam of channelled sunlight stretched across my face.

"You are truly beautiful." he said, reaching up and rubbing the back of his fingers across my cheek.

I grinned. I was finally perfectly warm and rested and felt relaxed for the first time in days. I happily leaned forward, pressing my lips against Bofur's, hoping to make the morning even better. Still he was gentle, just lightly kissing me back, not taking advantage when I opened my mouth slightly.

I groaned in exasperation after a few more moments of trying unsuccessfully to deepen the kiss, and pulled away, pushing off the blankets and stomping off to freshen up without looking back at him.

"Is something wrong?" Bofur asked when I re-entered the bedroom. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed and stood up when I approached, offhandedly grabbing and replacing his hat that he had set aside the night before.

"We had a deal, to just get over it." I explained. "But unless I am mistaken, you still feel badly."

When he frowned in confusion, I stepped up close to him and placed my arms casually over his shoulders. "Well, you're not being very... _enthusiastic_." I remarked with a small pout. "I won't break, you know. I just want the _old you_ back... unless something else is wrong? Do I have bad breath?"

Bofur's face relaxed and he grinned. "I can do enthusiastic if that's what you're looking for." he said, taking hold of my hips and abruptly tugging me close against him

I laughed as he then spun me about and pushed me back onto the bed.

"That's more like it." I smiled, shuffling up the mattress as he climbed on after me.

After guiding me back onto the pillows he moved forward and kissed me, finally with the passion I had been hoping for. His hands glided up my bare legs as his lips began trailed down along my jaw and neck, then along the opening of my housecoat at my chest. Then he kept moving downwards.

"What are you doing?" I asked, stiffening slightly as he placed himself between my bent knees.

"Trust me, love, you'll like it." he responded, his eyes glinting as he turned his head and pressed his lips to against the side of my knee then began to kiss down my inner thigh.

I fell back against the pillows, squirming slightly as his moustache tickled the sensitive skin there. I felt him pull open my housecoat, then gasped in surprise as I felt him kiss between my legs.

He paused and uttered something in Khuzdul, kissing my other thigh as he placed his hands on my hips.

"Relax." he added in a whisper. His mouth moving down and claiming me once more.

The soft flaps of his hat tickled my inner thighs as his tongue began to elicit the most pleasant sensations from my body. Soon I had forgotten my self-consciousness and was beginning to writhe against the bed, my eyes squeezed shut, moaning softly as he moved his hand down and he added the use of his fingers.

When my body released Bofur grabbed my leg and kissed it once more before getting up. I heard him walk away but kept my eyes close, revelling for a moment in the sweet relaxation that came after the climax.

I smiled when Bofur returned. He smiled back, took off his hat then lay back down beside me.

"You were right. I did like that." I said, turning into him and kissing the side of his mouth.

He smiled and pulled me against him, kissing me hungrily. I felt his readiness and grinned as I began to pull off his clothing. When he was unclad he positioned himself between my legs once more and entered me slowly, moaning deeply as he did so.

"_Mahal._ What was I thinking? There is no sum of gold that is equal to the feeling of being inside you." he said breathlessly, kissing me fervidly and bunching his hand in my hair. I smiled against his lips, wrapping my arms tight around him.

This time, however, after a few minutes I bade him to stop and pushed him off me.

"Nothing's wrong." I added quickly. "Just lie back."

I pressed him down and locked eyes with his as I pulled off my housecoat and then moved my leg over him, using my hand to guide him back into me as I settled atop him.

His mouth opened slightly as I took his hands and put them on my hips then began moving, slowly at first. His hands ran up and down my waist then tightened on my hips when I began moving faster.

He moaned and then suddenly sat up, his arms wrapping around me and his lips slamming against mine. His one hand pushed my bottom and he began guiding me in my movements.

After another few minutes he effortlessly returned me to my position on my back then plunged into me harder and faster. My hands traced across his lower back, fingernails digging into his skin as I pulled him against me. His momentum grew erratic, and with a groan he finally began to slow, relishing in the final moments of our love-making.

With a contented grin he kissed my forehead then settled in beside me, however after a moment of cuddling I moved to get up, excusing myself quickly before grabbing my clothes and padding off to the lavatory.

I returned to see Bofur sitting up in bed, the sheets haphazardly thrown over his lower half and a pipe in hand that he was beginning to light.

I rushed over and unceremoniously yanked it out of his grasp, some of the leaf spilling out as I did so.

"Not in my room, mister." I tutted, "I don't want the place to smell of smoke."

Bofur stared slack-jawed for a moment, shocked by my curt reaction, but then simply shrugged and lay back in the bed with his hands behind his head. "You're going to be out of luck when the rest of our people get here, you know. Some of the women are even worse smokers than the men. Might need to find you a room with a balcony." He lifted his head up and winked.

"Your women don't sound very _womanly_." I retorted with a wrinkled nose and my hands on my hips.

"Ah, you may be surprised. Though some of them do look an awful lot like I do - how do I know you won't find one of them more handsome than I? With their hair and beards and rugged good looks..." He looked me up and down with mock criticism, then added "You'd never catch a proper dwarven lady wearing trousers though."

I tutted indignantly then sprang forward and landed atop him, legs straddling his hips as I pinned him down. "Well, a good dwarven man would go find his lady a few dresses if he finds her attire offensive, instead of letting her wear the same old travel garb for days." I said admonishingly, leaning forward and biting his lip before kissing him chastely.

He laughed. "Good point, fair lady." he replied with a grin. "Though I'm just teasin' yah. I like you just the same no matter what you wear. Besides, in those I can best see the shape of those long legs of yours."

I giggled as he grabbed hold of my thighs then leaned up to kiss me once more.

"Still, I need something to change into in order to wash these." I continued thoughtfully. "Unless you'd prefer me walking the halls of Erebor stark nude while they dry?"

"Best not, love." he laughed again. "Else we may find the rest of the company suddenly wanting for a human lass and Thorin would have our heads for breaking custom... I think Nori's been collecting and sorting any clothing he can find, I'll talk to him for you."

I nodded then got up once more and stretched. "I thought I could stay in bed all day... but I can't." I admitted sheepishly, feeling full of energy now that I wasn't hampered with stress.

Bofur laughed and began dressing. "What would you like to do then?" he asked.

I pondered for a moment then put my hand to my very empty stomach. "Breakfast?"

* * *

Silence greeted us, and we received more than a few glances when we arrived at the storage room. While clearly stunned, it was a different silence than the mindless daze the dwarves had been in the past few days. Bofur was not the only one to have completely shaken free of the gold lust.

"Well now, it's about time you got your head back on straight." One of the dwarves called from the far end of the room - I looked to see Gloin seated there across from his brother, who shook his head.

"Too late? No, it's not too late - look, they're back together!" Óin remarked loudly.

The weighty atmosphere of the room seemed to dissipate at that, and the room's occupants all turned to look at Óin rather than us. The aged dwarf's poor hearing, without him knowing it, had broken the tension. A few laughs rang out, and Bofur and I moved to take a seat along the benches.

Bombur graciously brought us each a bowl of oats and dried fruit, patting his brother on the back as he did so.

We ate in happy silence and once finished Bofur looked up towards the front of the room where Bombur was still bustling around.

"I should help him clean up today." Bofur said. "I haven't had much of a chance to speak with him since we arrived." he shifted, slightly uncomfortable, and I touched him arm sympathetically.

"I will meet up with you later." I said gently, handing him my bowl.

As I wandered back up the hallway I suddenly heard footsteps approaching behind me and turned to see Nori catching up.

"You need new clothes then?" he asked without any kind of greeting.

"Yes, at least something to wear so I can wash these." I admitted, looking down at my rumpled dirty tunic.

"It might be a challenge with your... dimensions, but I'm sure we can find something. Follow me."

I nodded and he led me away further along the corridor, up one flight of steps, and down another hallway.

We came to a large stone door, which he pushed open, and we entered a spacious pre-lit room lined with various wooden chests and shelves, all packed with clothing and fabric and furs. There were also racks of hung items as well which seemed to be sorted between dresses, coats and tunics.

"Wait here." he instructed as he disappeared between two racks and began flicking through the dresses that hung there.

I looked around curiously at the collection. Judging by the small dais and long mirrors that adorned the corner of the room, plus the large desk cluttered with thread and measuring supplies, it seemed this room was once used by a seamstress.

Nori returned with a rather awful coloured dress draped over his arms, it was a burnt yellow hue, and I knew I would look terrible in it. I tried to refrain from crinkling my nose as I grabbed it.

"One of the longest I could find." he explained as he directed me to the back corner of the room which was cordoned off with curtains to change behind.

Once I had stripped off my vest and tunic, I shrugged on the dress and immediately knew it was not going to work, not even if I tried to alter it. It was much too large in the chest, hanging in large loose folds under my bosom, and it was extremely saggy in the armpits so it could barely stay up. It also only fell just past my knees.

"Well?" Nori asked impatiently.

"Um, I'm not quite sure." I replied as I pulled the ties as tightly as they could go.

I jumped and shot him an affronted but unheeded glare as he unexpectedly pulled the curtain aside to see for himself. His face contorted in distaste as I dropped my hands in defeat to show him the fit of the dress.

"That's hideous." he stated heatedly. "Try these." He tossed an armload of clothing at me and pulled the curtains closed once more. Though some were slightly different styles, one looking to be a gown for a special occasion with many layers of rich fabric and long trailing sleeves, I ran into the same problem with all of them.

"Anything smaller?" I asked with a slight smile, revealing my current dress that drooped so low in the neckline I had to hold it up.

"Dwarf women don't come much smaller." Nori said with a grin, yet then his expression turned thoughtful. "But maybe..." he suddenly held up a finger."Wait here." he ordered once again before turning on his heel and heading over to a different section.

After a few minutes he returned with a new garment. I grabbed it and shut the curtains then held it up. It was another dress, a thicker wool material in grey but fringed with white lace around the cuffs and skirt bottom. Instead of the typical corset lacing at the back, this one simply had buttons in the front starting at the waistline and going to the collar. This dress, however, appeared like it might fit more appropriately around the middle. It would still be much too short in the arms and legs, but I couldn't expect a perfect fit when dealing with an exclusively dwarven wardrobe.

"Where did you find this one?" I asked curiously.

"Children's clothing." I heard Nori reply.

I frowned but pulled it on and adjusted it. It actually fit snug in the middle, though it was a bit too tight across my chest so I left the top button undone. As predicted, the dress only hung to my knees, and the bottom of the sleeves stopped just past my elbows. But I was desperate for fresh clothing and was willing to give anything a try.

I pulled open the curtain and walked to the platform to check in the mirror. It was certainly strange to wear such a short dress, but it wasn't entirely awful looking as it hugged my waistline then flared out slightly at my hips, plus I was still wearing leggings, so it wasn't completely inappropriate.

Nori stepped up behind me, his hand on his chin. "It's not bad." he remarked after taking a few paces back and looking at me from different angles. "We can probably find you some tall boots, and then with your coat on it_ should_ look passable."

"Passable will do." I exclaimed with a grin.

Nori went off and found me some footwear and luckily dwarf ladies feet seemed to be larger overall so I quickly found a pair of newer leather boots. We realized that I could also take a few pairs of tights to wear under the dress in place of my thick stained leggings, though they would regularly be much too short for me to pull on all the way, they would work if I cut off the feet, and then paired with socks and boots no one would be the wiser.

So I left carrying my old clothing plus a neatly folded pile of high quality dresses, hosiery, socks, belts, some children's undergarments (how humiliating) and even a short white nightgown. I almost felt wealthy.

I returned to my room and put things away, then decided to go to the dining area to see if there was any lunch cooking.

Judging from the hearty aromas wafting down the hallway, it seemed that my timing was perfect. I stepped inside. Kili and Fili were already well into their plates. Gloin, Ori and Bifur were also sitting down and Bofur was helping Bombur ladle out servings of delicious looking stew and dark bread. Thank goodness for Bombur's ability and drive to cook each day, else we might all starve.

I began walking to the back and smiled nervously when I saw Bofur finally notice me, his eyes trailing up my body before he smiled in return.

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to for so long." he said cheerily when I was close enough.

I came to a stop in front of him as he readied me a bowl. "Can you believe there wasn't anything in my size?" I asked with a smile, looking down at my new outfit somewhat self-consciously.

Bofur chuckled. "Don't worry, love. You look good." he said as he handed me some food.

I squinted at him suspiciously, not able to tell if he was just reassuring me or if he was actually being honest. Either way I wasn't about to go change again, so I took my food and, since Bofur was unable to join me right away due to the arrival Nori and Dori, I decided to go sit by Kili and Fili.

The brother's outright gawped at me as I approached them, then Kili smiled, his eyes bright with mirth.

"Why hello, little girl, can we help you with something?" he asked me, barely able to contain his laughter.

Fili nearly choked on his beer as he tried to stifle a laugh as well.

I scowled at them.

"Don't worry, lass, I think you look very grown-up." Dori piqued in, patting my shoulder in a motherly fashion when he came up behind me, but this just caused more sniggers from the other two.

"Shut it." I snapped at the brothers as I slumped down a good distance away from them.

"Aw, don't be mad." Kili admonished as I glared down at my food. "We're just teasing. You look fine, really you do. If anyone can pull of children's clothes, it's you." He slid closer to me on the bench.

"I'm sure everyone will be wearing short dresses someday." he added, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow.

I scoffed, swatting at him playfully.

"It's true." Bofur added as he took a seat across from us, free to mingle now that the new arrivals were supplied with their food. "Best be careful though lad." He added in mock severity, lifting a finger up to twirl his moustache while looking at Kili. "There's few enough dwarf maids to go around, if _you_ take to wearing short dresses you might be mistaken for one... especially with such a delicate beard."

He raised his eyebrows up pensively, held the look for a moment, then broke into a smile and with a wink looked at me.

"You might have some competition, love."

I smiled at him as the others forgot about my new style and laughed at Kili's behest.

* * *

When we were nearly through our midday meals, Dwalin, Balin and Bilbo soberly entered the storage room and after doing a quick survey and seeing everyone was present, they shut the door behind them and beckoned everyone to move closer.

It was readily apparent from their demeanour that something was wrong and the group waited quietly for them to begin speaking.

"It's Thorin," Balin sighed, shaking his head slightly. "He is no better. In fact, he has gotten much worse."

"What do you mean by that?" Fili questioned, anxiously glancing at his brother.

"He begins to question our loyalty... he thinks - well, he thinks one of us is withholding the Arkenstone."

The group became loud for a moment, voicing their objections, but Dwalin quieted them with a snarl.

"_We _know none of us here would conceal it if found," Balin continued calmly, "but I fear that Thorin's mind is becoming corrupted, that the dragon-sickness has taken hold of him."

"What are we supposed to do then?" Kili questioned in alarm.

"Well that's obvious," Dwalin snapped, "we need to find him that damned stone, and fast."

At that some arguing broke out, some agreeing with Dwalin, others objecting. Balin raised his hand slightly, vying for silence.

"Maybe it would help, and maybe it would not," he admitted sadly. "Yet I am sure that his doubts will grow if he does not see us at least _trying_ to find it. We wanted to let you know about his current... instability." Balin paused, his expression strained as he slowly shook his head once more. "Tread carefully around him. And we should all try to show our presence in the treasure hall as much as possible."

As the group agreed and filed out I shot Bofur a worried glance. He gripped my hand, grinning reassuringly as he led me along being the others towards the gold hoard.

* * *

I tried to subtly watch Bofur as he sifted through the treasure, looking for any signs of him reverting back into the wretched state the gold had initially put him in, but he appeared completely lucid. Eventually he unexpectedly tossed a handful of coins at me, lightly berating me for staring at him.

"You're making me nervous, lass." he exclaimed. I stammered an apology then moved on, my worries clearly unfounded.

After a few hours of searching, Bofur agreed to accompany me as I snuck back to my rooms for a small break.

* * *

When we approached my door I reached out to open it but Bofur softly said my name causing me to pause and turn to look at him. He seemed oddly uncomfortable, which was unusual as usually he always appeared so collected. I leaned back against the closed door and raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"I remember you said something to me, right after you... tried to strike some sense into me." he grinned sheepishly as I grimaced and opened my mouth to apologize, but he held up his hand to stop me. He then stepped forward and stroked my cheek with his fingers. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked, his voice quiet and serious.

His eyes bore into mine and suddenly I felt nervous as well.

I bit my lip and then nodded and found the courage to speak.

"Yes." I said truthfully with a small smile, my heartbeat loud in my ears. "I do love you." I quickly looked down in fear of his reaction. "I understand if you don't-"

His hand was suddenly under my chin, tilting my head to meet his kiss as his other arm wrapped around me.

"I love you too, lass. I have for a long while." he whispered in my ear.

I smiled and hugged him close.

"You know, I do quite like that dress on you." Bofur added, kissing my neck.

"Yeah?" I questioned with a grin.

He nodded and I felt his hand move, sliding slowly down the curve of my bottom. Suddenly he grabbed underneath my upper thigh and pulled my leg up high alongside him. He pushed himself into me, my back flattening against the door. I laughed and tightened my arms around him as he kissed above my breasts.

"Come take a break with me." I demanded, my hands pulling at his hips.

He nodded, his lips quickly finding mine as his hand reached around me to open the door.

* * *

"You know, there was something I've been meaning to give back to you." Bofur began as he stood up, pulled on his trousers then grabbed his coat. He fumbled around his inner pocket for a moment and then presented me my courting bead. "If you'll accept it again."

I beamed at him and nodded, taking hold of the small wooden ornamentation and kneeling on floor so he could sit on the bed behind me and braid it back in.

"Bofur?" I asked when he was through, turning around to look at him as a thought occurred to me. He raised his eyebrows in response. "Do you find elf women attractive?"

He squinted his eyes at me, his nose slightly crinkling. "Why ask me that?"

I shrugged as I stood up and moved to stand between his legs.

"Well, you like me..." I reasoned, gliding my hands over his bare shoulders, "...and elves are similar," I paused and smiled, "except more perfect in every possible way."

Bofur snorted a laugh and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ears.

"I would never want an elf." He stated, his fingers reaching underneath my hair, resting on my neck as his thumb grazed my ear. "They don't seem quite real now do they?" His other hand trailed around my waist, pulling me closer. "I love you more because you're so... well, human." He said, grinning up at me.

I pursed my lips, not quite understanding. "I don't know if humans have many traits that could be envied by others." I said honestly.

"You only say that because you can't see yourself as I do." He explained, running his hand down through my hair and idly picking up my courting braid between his fingers. "You have this energy about you. Your emotions are not hidden; it's refreshing to be around. And you're just more...well, fidgety, it's quite adorable really. Elves. Elves are dull."

"Fidgety?" I replied indignantly, yanking one of his braids and making a face.

"Did I say fidgety? I meant beautiful of course." He answered with a grin, standing up and turning me about then gently pushing me back onto the bed.

"Beautiful..." he repeated as he carefully balanced over top of me and leaned down to kiss my cheek, "... and smart..." he then kissed my other cheek, "... and bold..." he kissed my lips, "... and brave..."

"Too bad I have no sense of humour." I interrupted with a smile.

Bofur laughed and then kissed my lips once more. "You didn't let me finish." He tugged me back to my feet then reached for his shirt.

"You know, this can't be a habit, me being in your private rooms." Bofur said as he finished getting dressed.

"Why not?" I questioned, pulling on my coat. "Everyone _knows_..."

"It's just not proper. There are strict rules for courting. Now that I _am_ publicly courting you, I should probably follow them. I want to do it right."

"What kind of rules?" I asked.

"Oh you know, things like no kissing on the mouth in public, no _sleepovers_." he winked at me. "There's certain timelines that should be followed, it's all very formal. Though to be honest it will all matter more when the others arrive."

"Well, we should take advantage of our time before then." I added mischievously. Bofur chuckled and agreed.

"Ready to go, amrâlimê?" Bofur asked when I had pulled on my boots.

"Only after you tell me what that means." I said, stepping closer to him.

"I thought you'd have figured it out by now... _love of mine_." he responded, wrapping his arms around my middle.

I smiled. "Amrâlimê." I repeated slowly, sounding it out correctly. "Well it does sound nice, especially now that I know it isn't some veiled insult to give yourself a laugh."

"I guess I should tell you then, it also means 'stick legs.' Bofur japed, reaching up and roughly kissing my jawline as I scoffed and swatted him.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't like my legs." I retorted with a smile.

"Will you ever stop shaving 'em?" he questioned with a grin.

"Probably not." I admitted, unsure if I'd ever be partial to having hairy legs.

"Hmm, just as well," he replied, his hand twirling in my hair. "I might be growing fond to the smoothness of them anyhow."

A loud shout from outside made us pull apart and rush towards the door. We exited into the hallway and saw the dark figure of Thorin briskly retreating down the corridor.

"To the gate!" he shouted again, causing Ori to quickly spill out of a room a few doors down.

"Thorin!" Bofur exclaimed, causing Thorin to spin around and study us.

"Everyone to the gate. Now." He demanded.

"Why, what's happening?" Bofur questioned, taking a small step forward.

Thorin's eyes briefly flickered to me before he curtly growled "Laketowners."


	25. This Gold is Ours And Ours Alone

"Light the braziers!"

The king under the mountain approached the entrance hall with all the turmoil of a maelstrom. His order echoed throughout Erebor's vast entranceway and those of us in the procession behind him spread out, wordlessly obeying his command.

Bofur took up an axe and set about the ancient timbers of a door of an adjoining antechamber. I hurriedly began to gather up the splintered wood, and then joined several of the others carrying their burdens to the top of the wall.

At the top I stopped short at the sight of the people - technically my people - destitute and un-homed with no hope left, filtering their way into Dale.

From the corner of my eye I noticed Thorin glare up at us from his position on the bridge crossing the mountain's moat, then his attention turned to those on the far side of the gate.

"Get those fires lit!"

I threw my armful of fuel onto the fire, and then was forced to step back as Balin upended a volatile smelling liquid onto the brazier's contents. Bifur then drew close, striking flint against steel and sending sparks showering onto the soaked wood, instantly igniting the brazier in a brilliant whoosh of flame to which the dwarf nodded appreciatively.

Bofur joined us atop the wall, standing behind me with his axe still in one hand as the other reached past me to lean against the outer battlement. The rest of the company joined us on either side of the gap, all eyes fixed on Dale. Only Thorin remained below, standing between the gates like he was issuing a challenge to any who might come. As we watched, more and more people climbed to the walls of the ruined city, likely looking to the large blazing fires at the mountain's gate, the beacons indicating that Erebor's king was, indeed, still very much alive.

None came forth though.

A scornful laugh from down below broke the twilight silence. "Cowards..." Thorin spat before turning away and walking back through the old gateway. Dwalin met him as he passed the bottom of the stairs on the far side.

"Bring tools and weapons. Seal off the mountain. No one enters..." He glanced up in the direction of Bilbo and I distrustfully, "...or leaves. Not while I am still king." Thorin shot his gaze about the company as we filed down from above, daring each of us to challenge his right to rule. No one held his stare, least of all me, and so he growled "Get to work. I am going below, the Arkenstone must be found."

Then the real work began. Rubble from the dragon's abrupt exit of the mountain provided all the materials for the task at hand, and the dwarves out-did themselves with their stamina, precision and engineering abilities. I found myself being shouted at to fetch rope and then beckoned to help hold sections of pulley systems while they were being rigged up. I was then delegated the task of lighting the multitude of inner sconces as evening fell and the natural daylight grew dim - a relatively light task compared to the heavy work the dwarves now had to endure. I watched them with slight wonder as they moved stones larger than themselves with relative ease.

Bilbo and I stepped aside to allow Bofur, carrying a piece of rock about as large as a small pony with the aid of Bombur at the other end, to pass by. As he noticed us he winked, showing no signs of fatigue.

I glanced at Bilbo incredulously.

"They _are_ strong." he said, giving his head a small shake as Dwalin walked by as well carrying a rock on his shoulder as if it were no more than a sack of grain.

I surreptitiously stepped aside into a more shadowed area and looked down at a chunk of rock that was perhaps a foot or so in height and not much wider than the span of my shoulders. I shot Bilbo a look then tried to pick it up; thinking perhaps the stone of Erebor was somehow lighter.

It was not. I could not pick it up. Bilbo tried to hide his smirk, but made no attempts to best me.

Thorin returned a few hours later when the fortifications were just beginning to take shape; expertly fitted stones puzzled together into a growing wall that effectively blocked the span of the broken entranceway.

"I want this fortress made safe by sun-up." he ordered, as he weaved his way towards the barricade. "This mountain was hard won. I will not see it taken again."

I had been helping Kili, pushing the back-end of a cart full of rock pieces he was towing, when suddenly he stopped and spoke up.

"The people of Laketown have _nothing_." He declared boldly and loud enough for all to hear as he slammed down the front of the cart. "They came to us in need. They have lost everything."

Thorin looked back at him but showed little emotion. "Do not tell me what they have lost. I know well enough their hardship." he said, returning his gaze towards Dale and its many torches alight throughout its crumbling walls. "Those who have lived through dragon-fire should rejoice. They have much to be grateful for."

I felt a surge of anger rising as I listened to his words and resisted the urge to run up and slap him across the face as I had done to Bofur. His lack of remorse for catalysing the ruin of an entire town was disturbing. People had died because of Smaug's rage, yet still Thorin showed reluctance at the prospect of helping them.

I eyed his back warily as he looked out at the city, then suddenly he turned and hurriedly bent down to grab a large piece of rock while he shouted: "More stone. Bring more stone to the gate!"

* * *

It became evident that no one would get away with leaving that night until the work was complete. Bilbo and I tried to continue to be of use, but found we were most often just underfoot of the others, as we were hardly able to move even the smallest stones chosen to add to the barricade. We caught each other's eye a few times, both frowning as we watched our friends labour unnecessarily through the night to fulfil Thorin's irrational command.

I soon grew exhausted; straining my body to try to do work that was much beyond my capabilities. I spent the better part of an hour trying to roll a large piece of rubble across the floor.

"Maybe we should get the others water, some food perhaps too." Bilbo said quietly, sidling up to me as I sat down on the rock I had been trying to move and wiped my face. "They look tired, which, I think, is rare for dwarves."

I surveyed the company. It was true; their movements had slowed considerably as they attempted to haul the heavy stones to greater and greater heights to build up the wall to Thorin's specifications, their faces grim and sheened with sweat. My eyes raked over all the dwarves but I could not spot Thorin amidst them.

"He left a while ago with Gloin." Bilbo said with a grin as he noticed my eyes darting around the hall for our surly leader.

"Oh, drat." I exclaimed with a huff. "I would have stopped trying to look busy a long time ago if I had known he wasn't watching."

Bilbo grinned sympathetically."Let's go now; we can probably make it back before he checks in again."

I nodded, grateful for the chance to actually do something helpful. We tiptoed our way inwards, keeping an eye and ear out for Thorin as we moved beyond the treasure hall.

"I don't agree with it, you know." Bilbo said, turning to look at me when we were well on our way to the lower levels. "I don't think Thorin has the right to break his word to your people. They more than deserve what was promised."

"They do not quite feel like my people anymore," I replied with a rueful grin, "but I agree with you. Thorin should help them. This has gotten out of hand."

Bilbo nodded and we walked in silence until I spoke up once more as we came up to the familiar storeroom.

"Thorin will stay true to his word, I think, in the end." I said optimistically. "He's too honourable not to."

"I hope you're right." Bilbo responded, grabbing a torch from the wall and leading the way inside.

After setting the light in a sconce near the back he grabbed an empty satchel and busied himself with collecting a few wooden cups and food while I filled two large water pitchers. We then discreetly made our way back to the entrance hall and, fortunately, Thorin had not yet returned.

Bilbo called the lads over after laying out the provisions and I began filling and handing out water.

I refilled a cup and handed it to Bofur, who had finally approached; he grinned in thanks, downed it quickly then took my arm and led me closer to Bilbo. He took hold of the hobbit's arm as well and then walked us both a ways back down the hall.

"Go get some rest now. Both of you." he said, letting us go and nodding towards the interior of Erebor. "You've each helped plenty and you both require more sleep than the rest of us."

His look was so pleading that Bilbo and I put up just a weak resistance before finally nodding in agreement.

"What about you?" I asked, placing my hand on his warm neck as Bilbo took a few tactful steps away.

"I'll be fine. Dwarves really do run on less sleep." He patted my hand then bade me goodnight before returning to work.

* * *

It seemed that my head had barely touched my pillow when I heard a rapping at my door. The dull beam of light stretching across my bed, however, indicated that it was indeed already morning.

I groaned and stumbled to my door, still wearing the dress I had been in yesterday which was now wrinkled beyond hope.

"Sorry to wake you." Bilbo stammered upon seeing my disgruntled sleepy glare. "But, you should know, there's been some - ah - developments, and if you had slept any longer you'd be very much confused... Here." he then shoved a mug of tea into my hands.

"What kind of developments?" I asked warily, taking a small sip of the hot liquid.

"Er - well - can I come in?" he asked suddenly.

I nodded and stepped aside. He went to sit on an armchair, perching right on the very edge like a flighty bird. I made my way to the couch across from him and set my tea on the side table, watching him curiously as he steepled his fingers then clapped his hands together.

"Well, what is it?" I questioned loudly when he made no move to speak. He jumped slightly then took a breath.

"Dale has been reinforced... with an army of elves," he began, and I couldn't help but immediately interrupt.

"What? Why? From Mirkwood?" I questioned incessantly, leaning forward slightly in anticipation of his answers.

"I don't know everything." Bilbo replied, holding up his hands. "Dale must have called for aid, and yes, from Mirkwood I would assume, where else?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek and then he continued.

"There's more," he began, shifting in his seat, "Bard; he rode up this morning on behalf of the town to try to get Thorin to honour their bargain." Bilbo sighed, clenching his small fists. "And, despite the threat of an attack if a settlement was not reached, Thorin _still _refused to come to terms... I think he's gone mad." Bilbo added sadly.

I stood up suddenly. "I don't understand," I began, pacing around the room. "Do you think the mountain would truly be attacked? I mean, we are outnumbered. We're _really_ outnumbered."

"I know, I know, that's what I said." Bilbo agreed, standing up as well in a fluster. "It's a mess. I just wish Gandalf were here."

I agreed and then groaned. "Well, let's go." I said, making for the door, "No, wait, let me change quickly."

After I swiped a brush through my hair and replaced my clothes, pulling on a dress made of a thick dark green material that had a slight sheen to it from certain angles, Bilbo and I made a quick detour to grab breakfast then he led me back towards the entranceway, directing me down a side hallway when we neared it.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously.

"They were heading to the armoury when I left; I suspect they will still be there."

Bilbo led me into a long chamber stocked with numerous armour stands, weapon racks and many rows of shields. Towards the back we saw the dwarves in a flurry of activity.

Thorin stood amidst them, holding up a shiny set of chainmail.

"Master Baggins. Come here." he commanded in a deep voice. Bilbo looked at me nervously but I nodded reassuringly and walked with him a few paces in. Thorin then strode forwards and abruptly pulled the hobbit aside.

"You're going to need this." I heard Thorin say in a calmer tone before I hurried past them.

I saw Bofur further along towards the very end of the room, though his back was facing me so he did not yet know of my presence. I rushed forward but suddenly collided hard with Kili, whom had suddenly stepped into my path testing the weight of a sword. He dropped the weapon and quickly grabbed my arms to steady me as I stumbled back.

"Kili! That hurt." I hissed, noticing he was fully armoured and reaching out to rap my knuckles against the front of his solid metal chest plate. He apologized quietly as he let me go and I took a step back. The dwarven prince cut quite the striking figure in battle attire. His broad chest and shoulders emphasized by the layers of chainmail and shining armour, yet my heart still plummeted as I thought about the prospect of battle.

"Kili," I began, meeting his eyes. "Why is everyone listening to him? There cannot be a fight."

He frowned, but said nothing and simply patted me once on the arm before stepping aside to fetch his fallen weapon.

I moved past him in frustration and carried on to Bofur. For some unknown reason I hadn't expected him to be wearing armour as well, and I found myself ogling when he turned towards me and I saw that he, too, was already fully clad in battle gear. A heavy metal breastplate and epilates buckled over a thick chainmail hauberk, giving way to ornate scale mail protecting his legs. His scarf draped down over his neck, and unlike many of the others he favoured his simple leather hat over a helm. I tentatively stepped forward and placed a hand lightly to his chest. With the other I gripped the hilt of the massive war-hammer he held and gently pushed it aside so I could get close.

My hands slid over the ornate patterns of his breastplate, then I took up the ends of his scarf, smiling a small smile. "My knight in shining armour... the scarf and hat look ridiculous though." He smiled ruefully as I looked at him, but then I cast my eyes downward as I let his scarf fall from my fingers."...You'll fight my people?" I began tentatively. "If he commands it?"

"I don't want to fight." Bofur said softly, tilting my chin up to look at him. "But I'm under oath to defend Erebor-"

"Erebor cannot be defended by thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a woman." I said bitingly.

"Not forever, no." he replied sadly, casting his gaze down.

I bit my lip and pressed on. "Please tell me you understand how pointless this all is. You _know_ Thorin is wrong to withhold the promised share from the Laketowners... They need to rebuild, winter is fast approaching, and they won't be able to survive -"

Bofur held up his hand, nervously glancing beyond me before placing his arm around my back and leading me a few steps further away from the others.

"I know. We _all_ know, love. This isn't right, but you have to understand, we have no choice but to follow his rule."

I scowled then resigned myself, knowing that none of this was Bofur's fault in the least.

I then sauntered over to a weapon rack and pulled out a small but heavy short sword.

"Will you teach me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows as I looked back to him.

He tilted his head at me. "No." he responded simply.

"Why not?" I replied crossly, hefting the sword to my other hand.

"Because you don't need to know." he retorted, a slight edge to his voice.

I huffed but still he did not agree.

"Kili?" I suddenly shouted, grinning as the young dwarf approached and looked at me expectantly. "Will you teach me a few things?" I asked slyly but in my sweetest voice, brandishing the sword rather awkwardly.

Kili grinned. "Sure."

"Hey!" Bofur retorted indignantly. I turned and smiled impishly at him, shrugging carelessly. Kili glanced at him as well, then back to me, a smile growing on his face as he realized he was caught between a lovers' quarrel.

"Oh lighten up, Bofur, there's no harm in teaching the girl how to hold a sword properly." he quipped, clearly one to stir the pot rather than help put out the flame.

Bofur frowned but did not object as Kili led me to the middle of the floor where there was more room, since most of the dwarves were now sitting off to the sides sharpening their chosen weapons.

Kili appraised me a moment, then adjusted the hold on my sword, showing me where to place my thumb and how high on the handle to grip. He then picked up a shield and helped push my arm through the leather back strap and told me to grab the metal hand-hold as well. Then he positioned the shield for me, placing me in a defensive stance.

"Defence." he explained simply, and then moved my arms once more, lowering the shield slightly and lifting the sword out in front of me. "Offence." he said with a grin. "All quite simple. Just don't get hit."

His instruction wasn't very enlightening and I was taken off guard when he suddenly donned his own shield then came at me. I let out a squeak and ducked behind my shield as his blade struck across it.

"Hold it higher!" Kili demanded, pressing me back. "Look for an opening."

Though I knew he was going quite slowly, even presenting me with obvious opportunities to strike him, I was embarrassingly uncoordinated trying to brandish both heavy sword and bulky shield, and I quickly dropped my guard altogether, my arms aching and my cheeks burning.

To my surprise Fili suddenly stepped up and removed my shield then took my short sword, replacing it with a much longer and even heavier blade. I began to object but Fili moved my other hand to grip it as well.

"Think you can teach her better, brother?" Kili teased.

"She will never be good with dwarvish weapons." Fili stated bluntly, causing me to shoot him a glare. He simply raised an eyebrow at me though, and I had to admit he was right. "They are too cumbersome for her." Fili replied offhandedly as he moved my fingers into the correct holding position. "And, yes, I reckon I can teach her better. I am the better swordsmen."

"This might be easier for you." Fili then told me, speaking close to my ear to be heard over his brother's protests. "All your focus on one sword; put your weight behind it and it can act as both blade and shield. Watch your opponent carefully, you'll need to be precise with your momentum, but don't over think it."

I nodded as he stepped aside and beckoned Kili forward once more. I felt eyes watching me, and knew I was embarrassing myself, but still I took a deep breath and then focused on the dwarven prince - my quarry.

He lunged forward, shield held out with his sword poised above it ready to strike. I swung my sword - hard as I could - but with a minute change in the angle of his shield he managed to halt my momentum outright.

It was Fili's turn to protest now.

"Come on - make it a fair fight. She knows better than to pick a fight with someone with a shield."

Kili nodded thoughtfully then passed his shield off to his brother before setting about me once more. I quickly dodged him then brought my sword down, but the blow was parried, Kili's blade meeting mine and halting my momentum, yet I noticed his weapon jerk back, just slightly, before he steadied his grip and held firm. I saw my advantage, slight as it was, and resorted to letting the weight of my weapon help do the work for me.

Before I could get another strike in, he took the offensive, drawing back a half step and lunging from a different angle, trying to get his sword around my defence.

I adjusted my footing and got my hands up just in time, causing his blade to skitter across my own right down at the cross-guard of my hilt.

"Good!" I heard Fili shout from the side. "At the very least she'll be able to keep herself alive without dropping from exhaustion under a shield. Keep moving - don't let him get close."

I backed off, and Kili flourished his sword before attacking again. I parried each successive strike, and while I knew he was only using elementary thrusts and swings, one at a time in slow order, I was at least getting a feel for the motions and movements required to use my longsword to some effect.

After a particularly quick succession of two blocks, my sword was positioned in such a way that I easily swung out at the dwarf, causing him to leap backwards and laugh.

"That's the right idea!" Fili applauded, along with a few of the others who were watching our progress. "Block for as long as it takes, then one quick combo from defence to offence should be all it takes."

We continued through a few more sets, and I began to grow more aggressive. My reach with the longsword was much greater than his, forcing him to try to duck near me, but I was usually able to cut off his advance. Still, I knew he was providing me with openings to try and attack - to both our benefit I hoped, as it would give him opportunities to save himself from situations he didn't usually get into.

My training was cut short as the other members of the company - finally fully adorned and armed - rose from their benches. Dwalin pushed past Fili, setting out on his way towards the gate, clasping the prince on the shoulder as he did so. Fili remained, but, after an apologetic glance, Kili fell into line, and one by one many of the others filtered out behind them, all of them grim faced and lost in their own thoughts.

As Bofur came near, following his comrades, his questioning eyes searched mine as he asked without words if he was free to leave me. I nodded slightly, offering a tiny smile in reassurance.

When everyone else had filed out, I looked to Fili, who had picked up a sword similar to the one I was holding. He then led me through a few different techniques, having me imitate his movement as he gracefully executed the motions.

"Fili," I said softly, after he corrected me a third time after a particularly complicated bluff. "I appreciate this - but you don't have to waste more of your time on me."

He glanced at me with a frown, his moustache beads swinging from the momentum of his quick movement.

"I'm not wasting my time." he replied simply, holding up his sword and showing me the proper form once more.

I smiled and copied him again, arching through the motion with more success. When I began to slow he took the swords and stashed them away.

"Thank you." I said candidly. "For teaching me."

Fili's expression softened. "You did well," the corner of his mouth then quirked up in a small smirk, "...for a woman." he added, and I laughed and rolled my eyes. He then looked at me with a more serious expression. "But you will not have to fight for us." he said severely. "This is not your battle. You'll be safe, well behind these walls when the fighting starts... Unless you'd prefer to be with your people? One of us could escort you to Dale-"

"No." I cut him off, shaking my head and placing my hand lightly on his arm for a moment. "I don't want to leave."

He grinned and nodded then stepped over to a weapon rack. After a moment's deliberation he grabbed a long spear and, with a flourish of his arm, escorted me out of the expansive armoury.

* * *

After a light and lonely lunch, and a quick freshen up in my room, I meandered through the now very lonely halls of Erebor. I was drawn towards its centre, the familiar but ominous treasure halls. I warily stepped down onto a gold pile, wincing at the noise of the cascading coins caused by the disturbance of my footfalls, but I was alone.

I had not yet had the opportunity to appreciate the grandeur of the collection, nor even really Erebor itself. I slowly hiked over the coins, trying to let the sheer amount of them truly sink in. I gazed upwards, marvelling at the immense maze of stonework. The kingdom seemed endless. I had never seen anything like it, and could not even begin to fathom how it might have been constructed; it seemed to be the work of gods.

I picked my way over to a hill off behind a sectioning of grand pillars that I had not yet explored and flopped down, running my hands atop the coins. I aimlessly reached over and picked up a gold ring inset with a large ruby, trying it on all my fingers until I found the one it best fit on. I admired my hand, and then let my eyes trail over the gold once more until I spotted another ring. Soon I had one on every digit, even both my thumbs. I smiled, twiddling my fingers, marvelling at the weight of the fine jewellery.

I continued to casually search the surface of the pile, crawling overtop it and donning every wearable piece I could find. In no time at all, I was adorned with jewelled headpieces, a delicate silver tiara, a few lavish gold belts, half a dozen necklaces, every bracelet and arm-band I came across - and was holding up what appeared, for all the world, to be a jewelled brassiere, when I was near startled out of my mind as a voice rang out.

"That's not what you think it is." Bofur said, a broad smile playing across his face when I jumped and twisted to look at him in surprise. He was leaning carelessly against the nearest pillar, arms crossed, still in full armour. I had no way of knowing how long he had been standing there.

"What?" I stammered, feeling my whole face turn red as I clamoured to my feet.

Bofur raised his eyebrows then glanced pointedly at my midriff. I looked down as well and I realized I was clutching the odd brassiere-esque item against my chest... it _did_ seem like it would nearly fit...

"It's for hair." he continued, beginning to walk up to me. "Not - ah - Well the dwarrowdams have much larger..." he cupped his hands out from his chest quite a ways, then, catching my wide-eyed stare, abruptly turned them outwards and traced my own figure from afar. "...measurements." he finished awkwardly with a grin before continuing towards me.

I pursed my lips and threw the supposed hair piece at him, causing him to laugh as he held up an arm in defence.

"So... what are you doing?" he asked slowly, trying to hide a grin as he looked me up and down.

"Nothing." I retorted calmly as he stepped up to me.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming.

"Playing." I then admitted with a smile and a shrug.

"You have expensive tastes." he teased, grabbing hold of a massive pendant, one among many, that hung about my neck. "It's a good thing one-fourteenth of this mine; else I'd not be able to afford'ya."

I smiled, stepping closer to him. "Hmm yes, and you thought you were the only 'gold digger' in this relationship." I replied wickedly but with a goofy smile for my silly pun. He chuckled, lurching forward to grab my waist, displacing so many coins in the motion that our footing slid out from under us and we fell back against the slope.

"Shouldn't you be waiting for an army?" I laughed, pushing myself into a sitting position.

He sat up as well but didn't respond, his expression becoming somewhat strained, so I dropped the subject and looked around, once again admiring the vastness and complexity of the inner caverns of Erebor. When my eyes fell back on Bofur, he was idly examining the chains and belts of precious metal about my hips.

"A wee bit excessive, don't you think?" he chided lightly, lifting up each of my hands in turn and studying the wealth that embellished my fingers and wrists.

"Oh come now," I flashed him a coy smile, hoping to distract him from the dark thoughts of battle. I pulled my hands away then backed up, lowering myself down into the pile of gold where I stretched out lavishly and looked up at him with sultry eyes. "You've dreamt of this moment ever since you met me..."

Bofur opened and closed his mouth and his hand twitched slightly, his eyes blazing.

"Surely, you've at least thought about it?" I asked, smiling playfully as I picked up a handful of coins and slowly dropped them, piece by piece, onto my body where they collected between my breasts and legs, contrasting brilliantly with the emerald sheen of my dress.

Bofur quickly looked away, and then lazily lifted his hand to examine his fingernails. "What? Having my way with you in a pile of gold? Nah, that doesn't sound like something I'd be interested in." he said nonchalantly, casting me a sidelong glance.

I flung the remaining coins at his torso where they clattered off his armour like rain.

"You liar!" I accused with a smile.

He tilted his head to the side, and then shook one of his fingers at me warningly, approaching as he did so.

"Watch yourself with those coins missy. I would hate for you to injure me on the eve of battle." He climbed over top of me, causing me to 'eek' and scramble backwards further into the pile, but eventually I ran out of room to run, my body lodged into the cascade of gold with his body pressing down upon it.

He ardently claimed my lips, holding himself just high enough aloft to not crush me. His kiss was demanding, his tongue and lips coaxing mine. I moaned into his mouth, gripping his upper arms, my hands sliding along the hard armour. His mouth tore away from mine and he moved down, kissing and sucking on my neck as I bent my knees up around him, pressing my legs against his hips as he bore down against me, letting me feel his weight for a moment.

Then suddenly he pushed himself up and leaned back and, using both hands, grabbed the front of my dress and tore it asunder, buttons flying off in every direction. He hastily pulled it, and my underlying slip, over my head, a few necklaces and the tiara tumbling off as he did so. I lifted my hips to help him as he took hold of my leggings and ripped them off as well. My skin pricked as the cool air accosted it on all sides, now fully nude - save for the sumptuous amount of jewellery I was still wearing. Bofur stood up, leaving me breathless as he took a step back down the slope, his eyes greedily trailing over me as I smiled seductively and writhed back amidst the treasure.

He uttered something in his own tongue, which still sounded so rough even coming from him, as I pulled some coins over my stomach.

Without warning he was back astride me, his knees on either side of my hips. His mouth found mine and he kissed me with a bruising hunger I had not known him capable of as his free hand travelled up and down my bare body. Suddenly he grabbed hold of my wrists, forcing both of my arms above my head and pinning them down with his one hand as his lips moved down to my breast. He then sat back, hastily undoing his trousers and then moving between my legs. I was ready for him when he claimed me fully and roughly. He gripped me possessively with one arm while his other hand was buried in the coins, balancing most of his weight so that his rough armour did not cut into me.

When he was through he quickly moved off and fell to his back beside me, breathing hard.

"This would be a most inopportune time to be chanced upon by the others." I joked breathlessly and Bofur turned his head to look at me, his eyes squinting in a cheeky grin.

"Not like it'd be the first time they've found me in a pile of gold next to a naked lady..." he mused, causing me to swat at him harmlessly against the armour plating. I then looked at him accusingly, not sure if he was actually joking or not, but true to form he broke into a wide grin and put my fears to rest.

I crossed my arms sternly.

"Keep it up and it'll be the last time you're found next to this naked lady. Gold or not."

I held my demeanour as long as I could, then smiled back at him as I sat up to look for my clothes, my body cooling quickly from the slight layer of sweat that covered it.

"Wait," Bofur chuckled as he sat up as well and I felt the oddest sensation as he pulled a few stuck coins off of my back. When I stood up, I heard him chuckle once as he pushed himself up and reached forward to peel off another one from my rear end. He then got to his feet as well and patted my bottom playfully before fetching me my underclothes.

"You'll be paying for this you know." I said with mock seriousness as I lifted up my dress, the front hanging open rather pitifully now that the buttons had been lost. I shrugged it on anyway; since everyone was so occupied, I could make it back to my rooms to change without anyone seeing me.

Bofur smiled softly and stepped up to me, studying me with an odd expression.

He took up my hand and silently pulled off all of the rings and bangles, moving to the other hand when he was finished. He eased off the tangled jumble of fine necklaces and tossed them to the ground, then had me bow my head to remove the hairpieces that had become slightly knotted in my now dishevelled locks.

I smiled unsurely when he dropped the last piece of treasure to the floor, standing before him once again as a simple, plain girl holding up a torn dress, rather than the confident, gold-adorned vixen I had become while layered with riches.

Bofur looked at me softly then drew me down into a sweeter kiss, his hand lightly sweeping up behind my neck and into my hair.

"You really don't need any decoration," he told me with a smile, "you're beautiful enough as it is."

I leaned into him once more, resting my head on his shoulder as I put my arms around him, ignoring the roughness of his armour as I pulled him into an embrace. He pulled me tight against him and I felt, for a moment, that nothing in the world could possibly hurt us. In the arms of this dwarf, dressed for war, as broad and intimidating as I was slim and delicate, I truly felt at home.

"Mahal knows I don't want to, but I should get back. I have first watch tonight." Bofur said, his fingers stroking up my back. I nodded and pulled back slightly, moving my hands to rest on his chest. We stayed like that another moment before finally forcing ourselves into motion.

I walked him a ways towards the stairs leading to the entrance then bid him goodnight, making him promise to come fetch me if anything began to happen. I then did a quick detour to the storage room, grabbing some food to bring up to my quarters as my torn outfit was in no state to risk being chanced upon by the next dwarf on break.

As luck would have it, however, when I had nearly reached my quarters and was just rounding the corner to the last hallway, Bilbo was just exiting his room. I jumped slightly at the unforeseen presence, quickly reaching up with my free hand to hold the collar of my dress closed. I wasn't sure Bilbo would appreciate an eyeful of my undergarments.

Bilbo had just finished easing his door shut as quietly as he could when he looked up and jumped in frightful surprise as well at unexpectedly meeting someone else in the quiet halls.

"Ah, it's just you." he said, sounding somewhat relieved and walking towards me, but when he neared he tilted his head, frowning.

"What on earth happened to your dress?" he asked, coming to a stop and looking up at me in confusion.

"Oh, um, it was-" I felt my face grow hot as I tried to think of an excuse, hoping the shadowed light in the corridor would not be enough to reveal the red blush spreading across my cheeks.

Bilbo suddenly held up his hand, crinkling his nose as he squinted at the ground. "No. Nevermind." he said quickly, with a small shake of his head. "Quite frankly, I do not need to know."

I grinned slightly at his discomfort. He then put his hands behind his back, rocked on his heels once then glanced up and down the halls before looking back up at me, his expression sombre.

"I'm leaving." he said all of a sudden. "Tonight."

My eyes widened and I was about to ply him with questions but he continued speaking in a hushed tone so I snapped my mouth closed and stepped closer to listen.

"I'm going to try and negotiate with Bard and the Elven King." he explained quickly, though I simply grew more and more puzzled. "Thorin is too... distracted to realize he's trying to start a battle he cannot win." he frowned, his eyes searching mine as if appraising me. "I... I have something." he continued slowly and even more quietly. "Something I believe can change the fortunes of this war."

I watched in wonder as he reached inside his coat then partially revealed a stone, holding it close to his chest, halfway hidden behind the fabric of his jacket. He allowed me only a moment to feast my eyes upon it before quickly returning it to the hidden safety of his inner pocket.

I knew my mouth was open in awe of what I had seen. The Arkenstone. There was no mistaking it. Already I longed to look upon its splendour once more.

"You mustn't tell anyone." Bilbo said pressingly. "_Anyone_. Do you hear me?"

I looked at him in a slight daze, still trying to shake the all-encompassing and distracting image of the sparkling gem out of my mind as I worked through his words. I nodded when I finally grasped his request.

"Of course I won't." I replied. "You can trust me."

Bilbo nodded curtly. "I think I can help - this might be the only way." he added somewhat hesitantly, as if still needing some reassurance. I did not know his reasoning, or his plan, but the hobbit had proved himself to be more than capable; he was intelligent and calculating, and above all that, I trusted him, so I nodded.

"I think now is the time for more drastic measures." I said with a resolute look.

Bilbo gave me a small grin. "Right. Well, I might not see you again before I - ah - sneak off for a bit... I will be back before sunrise."

I wished him luck and bade him goodnight before heading to my chambers, feeling a knot of worry for Bilbo's safety during his risky endeavours, but also fortunate to be given his utmost confidence, to be privy to a plan none of the others knew about.

Once in my quarters I lit the hearth fire and then picked at some of the food I had nabbed, leaving the rest set out in case Bofur returned. After a good while sitting in hot water, letting it sooth both my tense muscles and my fears, I checked my door was unlocked then headed to bed.

* * *

I was pulled from sleep a few hours later as I heard someone shuffle into the main room. An overwhelming desire to rise up to meet him clashed against my body's accumulated fatigue from the past few days, and I nearly rose despite myself, until I listened closer to Bofur's approach.

Near silence.

He shuffled across the floor as quietly as he could, holding steady a hundred different pieces of arms and armour while he advanced with baited breath. The effort he was putting into not waking me filled me with warmth, and a tender smile spread onto my lips.

I waited until he lowered himself onto his back beside me, my mattress creaking at the added weight from his chainmail and armour, before finally rolling over to face him, draping an arm across his metalled chest. He lifted a gauntleted hand up to lay it over mine, then let out a sigh. My eyes opened to study him, squinting to make out the form of his features in the darkness. His eyes were closed, and I could tell fatigue might be playing on him as well.

"Any news?" I asked quietly.

Bofur took a moment to respond and when he did his voice sounded unusual.

"The elves have moved their archers into position."

"...We'll be alright though." I replied hesitantly, almost as a question - though my intent was to try and reassure him.

Bofur's hand squeezed my own. "You'll be safe." he said softly.

I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, feeling his lips tug into a small smile as I did so.

And despite the looming unknowingness of the next day's coming, we were so weary we both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	26. Let These Lands Run With Blood

I awoke to a noise reverberating throughout the mountain depths.

It took me a long time to even register the source of the sound. It wasn't until Bofur hurried to get up and the mattress shifted below me - waking me further - that I realized I was hearing a horn blowing, its sharp note receding down the outer corridor as the dwarves were called to duty.

"Stay here, love." Bofur ordered softly, turning to look at me as I roughly shoved the blankets aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

He saw the objection forming on my lips and bent down, placing a lasting kiss on them before I could articulate my complaints.

"Stay here. Lock your door." he repeated quietly after he pulled away, his face still close to mine, his hand squeezing my shoulder.

"Let me come with you. Surely you don't truly believe Bard or Thranduil would harm any of us..." I reasoned, trailing my fingers down the side of his face.

He chuckled and reached up to grab my hand. "You're near as stubborn as a dwarf, you know." he teased, placing a quick kiss on my palm. "No, love, please, I need you to stay. And the lads would have my neck if I brought you out there."

I scowled but he simply pressed another kiss to my forehead, then quickly adjusted his hauberk and headed towards the door.

"Bofur," I called him to a stop.

I wished to tell him of Bilbo and the Arkenstone. I wished to reassure him that there would not be a battle... That the hobbit would have found a way to negotiate peace, and so he had no need to worry. I could see it behind his eyes; the fear. He tried to mask it... but I knew his eyes too well. I opened my mouth to tell him all of this, hoping it would be enough to allow me leave to join him on the ramparts.

Bofur looked back at me questioningly, but I hesitated. I had vowed to keep Bilbo's ploy a secret and, though I knew Bofur cared for the hobbit, I wasn't sure if that friendship would overpower the sworn loyalty Bofur had for Thorin.

He raised his eyebrows when I continued to stall. I let out a small breath and smiled slightly.

"I love you." I said after another moment's delay. Bilbo's secret would remain secret for now - there were more than enough broken promises lately without me adding to them.

"I love you more." he replied, smiling almost sadly before he hefted up his battle hammer. "But remember. Stay here."

I sighed audibly and dramatically flopped back on the bed, barely catching his grin as he turned and exited the room. When I heard him close the exterior door, his footsteps disappearing, I squeezed my eyes shut and felt each second begin to drag by.

I quickly found I could not lie still so I got up and busied myself by tidying my rooms, lighting a fire, washing up, eating some leftovers, contemplating life as I knew it... and after all that, I had barely filled an hour.

Then I was just sitting, wringing my hands together, waiting... waiting... waiting for what?

I sprung to my feet in sudden frustration. I knew I would surely go mad if I was forced to spend the day in this suspense.

Bofur should have locked me in.

* * *

I saw the dwarves lined up at the top of the ramparts when I crept into the entrance hall, and when I neared the stone wall I heard Thorin begin to shout. I could not make out his words, however, so I hastened forward and began ascending the steps constructed at the back of the barricade.

Another voice rang out in anger when I was nearing the top.

"Thieves!" Kili shouted. "How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!"

So Bilbo had given away the Arkenstone after all. The dwarves did not sound pleased, nor did they seem to hear me as I lightly stepped up onto the platform and sidled off to one side to join a rather fidgety looking hobbit that shifted from foot to foot while the scene played out before us. He cast me a sidelong glance, drawing a quiet, nervous breath in through his teeth.

I stifled a gasp when I finally looked forward and saw the entire valley before Erebor amassed with rows upon rows of elvish warriors in perfect formation, standing at the ready.

The dwarves were all leaning over the wall, fixated below as Bard and Thranduil tried to offer negotiations.

Thorin's next words were beyond my hearing, barely above a whisper. My breath caught in my chest as I leaned forward to catch what he was saying: "This is a ruse. A filthy lie... " He glared about the company, though no one offered any contradiction. The company remained as silent as I did.

"THE ARKENSTONE IS IN THIS MOUNTAIN! IT IS A TRICK!"

The king's sudden cry erupted with such fury that I flinched back into the shadows at its severity. Bilbo, however, stepped forward.

"It-It's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them." Bilbo explained, pressing his way through the dwarves to Thorin.

"You…" Thorin uttered accusingly.

"I took it as my fourteenth share." Bilbo admitted nonchalantly, and I admired his courage then.

"You would steal from me?" He asked in anguished disbelief.

"Steal from you?" Bilbo repeated incredulously. "No, no, I may be a burglar, but I'd like to think I'm an honest one." he said lightly, but the seething atmosphere could not be broken by light banter. "I'm willing to let it stand against my claim."

"Against your claim." Thorin grinned feverishly, then began to fume, his eyes glowering. "_Your claim_." he stated, his voice lowering dangerously. "You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!"

He abruptly threw down his bow and took a few threatening paces towards the hobbit, who stood his ground to my surprise. Against my better judgement, I drew out of the shadows a few paces, coming up to stand behind Dwalin and Gloin, though I knew not what I could do to help.

"I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to. But-" Bilbo tried desperately to explain himself, but to no avail.

"But what, thief?" Thorin growled.

"You are changed, Thorin." Bilbo asserted firmly. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word - Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"

Thorin's voice came out in a strained whisper as he took another few steps closer to Bilbo, his eyes glassing over with emotion. "Do not speak to me of loyalty." He came to a stop and drew ragged breath.

"THROW HIM FROM THE RAMPART!" he shouted suddenly and I felt my chest tighten in fear.

The company, however, stayed rooted to their spots, which unfortunately seemed to only infuriate Thorin further. He made a wild grab for Fili before spinning back around and advancing on the hobbit himself.

"Stop! Why are you doing this?" I shrieked, suddenly rushing forward, dodging the grasping hands of the others as I ran up and positioned myself between Thorin and Bilbo. Thorin halted in his tracks and eyed me, his gaze feral and angry from beneath his dark brows.

"Sue for peace!" I pleaded and I briefly saw, behind Thorin's shoulder, Bofur ushering Bilbo to an opening in the ramparts. At least my foolishness would ensure the hobbit's safety.

"You only say that for the greed in your heart." Thorin mumbled and my eyes snapped back to his. "Humans are ripe with it." he sneered. "You would see me hand out my riches - my divine birthright! - to a group of festering dogs that have done nothing to deserve it."

I clenched my jaw. "You would know about greed, wouldn't you, Thorin?" I spat.

I heard Bofur shout out before I even felt it; as in one extremely swift motion Thorin had drawn his sword and had pressed its sharp steel edge to the bare skin of my neck.

The others yelled incoherently as well, pressing towards us, but Thorin jerked up a hand in warning and shot them such a heated look that they all froze in place.

He then slowly trailed his eyes back to mine and I stared back defiantly.

The silence was heavy around us.

"Do it!" I snarled suddenly, shattering the tense quiet.

He did not move.

"Do it. And show everyone just what kind of _King_ you are." I uttered, tilting my head up just so, almost invitingly.

His lips turned in a snarl, his eyes blazing with madness.

I did not flinch as he applied a small pressure and drew his blade down with expert control, precisely opening a shallow tear in my skin. I felt a warm trickle of blood slide down my neck. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement as someone stepped forward.

"Lower your sword, Uncle." Kili said as he pressed the edge of his own blade against Thorin's neck. I stood perfectly still, but suddenly felt the burn of pain from my damaged skin. My hand clenched slightly but I dared not step away.

"_Lower your sword_." Kili repeated, his voice thick with emotion.

In a stand-off against each other, neither moved an inch, until Thorin finally turned his head to glare at his nephew. Kili stared back at him determinately, yet still Thorin did not seem swayed.

I nearly jumped (but thankfully I did not) when a loud voice suddenly rang out from the battlefield, magically amplified so that we could hear it plain as day.

"You're not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you... Thorin son of Thrain?" Gandalf berated from the ground below.

Thorin slowly turned his head and looked over the side, seeming to lose his nerve for a brief moment as he stared down at the wizard, then back up to me. I felt the shake of his sword-tip, his inner conflict playing out across the vulnerable skin of my throat.

Kili drew in a breath through clenched teeth. "Uncle. Don't." he begged.

Finally Thorin jerked his weapon aside with a growl.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, closing my eyes for a brief moment. Then a set of hands grabbed me and tugged me aside.

"You have to go." Bofur said breathlessly into my ear as he quickly pushed me along the narrow pathway past the others, not allowing me to stop until we reached the ledge where Bilbo had recently climbed down. "Follow Bilbo; find a safe place in Dale."

I swung around and looked at Bofur in shock. "What? No. I'm not leaving." I rebuked.

Thorin's shout from nearby behind us caused us both to jump. "NEVER AGAIN WILL I HAVE DEALINGS WITH WIZARDS, SHIRE-RATS, AND HUMAN WHORES!" he yelled viciously, loud enough for those even below to clearly hear him.

"Please, please, listen to me." Bofur urged, his face contorted with worry as he shoved the rope into my hands. "You must leave. I can't protect you here."

I studied him for a moment, staring into his sad brown eyes.

"Come with me." I begged, taking his hand, but he didn't respond. "Amrâlimê." I whispered pleadingly.

His expression became even bleaker as he shook his head and I realized with sudden clarity that he was shaking.

"I can't. I'm under contract, sworn to Thorin's service." he said quietly with a grimace. "_Please_. Do this. For me."

I finally nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat as I began to carefully lower myself over the edge of the rock wall. I stopped when I had found a foothold and looked back up to Bofur, who kneeled down and placed a trembling hand on my cheek.

"I will find you again. When it's all over. I promise." he said. I hoisted myself up a step and leaned in to kiss him, a fast, distracted kiss but one that made me nearly break down nonetheless. I couldn't look at him as I continued my descent.

I managed to lower myself rather steadily, though my arms were shaky and sore when I finally made contact with the ground. I lifted my chin and walked as confidently as I could towards the first line of the elven ranks, towards Bard, Gandalf, Bilbo and Thranduil, the only familiar faces among the hundreds before me.

Bard dismounted and stepped forward to greet me when I approached. He pulled out a handkerchief and gently pressed it to my neck.

"Thorin has some nerve." he muttered angrily.

I assured him I was fine and thanked him as I took hold of the cloth myself. Gandalf and Bilbo approached and Bard moved aside so that I might speak to them as well.

"Ah, my dear girl, glad to see you're still in one piece." Gandalf exclaimed with perhaps a little too much cheer as he stepped up to me and briefly clasped my arm. "You have a touch of fate about you after all."

Bard stepped forward and addressed Thorin once more. "Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?" He shouted up at the company.

Thorin, however did not respond and I glanced up to see he had begun pacing, glancing listlessly towards the eastern hillsides.

"Why should I buy back what is rightfully mine?" he shouted, and I was saddened to hear the sheer desperation now lacing his voice.

I looked at Bilbo who was standing very rigidly still and frowning at the ground.

"Keep the stone. Sell it." Thranduil commented to Bard but loud enough so that his voice would carry up to the dwarves. "Ecthelion of Gondor will give you a good price for it."

"I will kill you!" Thorin threatened wildly. Still nervously pacing like a dangerous, cornered animal. "By my Oath! I will kill you all!"

I watched Thranduil turn back to his army for a moment and gasped when his front line of archers suddenly came to life and took aim upon the mountain. I suddenly realized that I had been naive. The dwarves were in very real danger of coming to harm due to the insanity of their king and the sheer stubbornness of all three races involved.

"Thorin. Lay down your arms! Open these doors! This treasure will be your death." Gandalf yelled, stepping forward and looking imploringly up at the ramparts.

I craned my neck up to lock my eyes on Bofur, willing him to leave his people, to join me in safety, to surrender. He very slightly shook his head before averting his gaze, and my heart plummeted. I then looked to Thorin who seemed to be struggling to reach a decision.

"Give us your answer!" Bard demanded. "Will you have peace?... Or war?"

Thorin appeared near to defeat; his shoulders stooped as he cast his gaze down and bowed his head in helplessness. I felt hopeful that he was finally losing his conviction and would see reason. A large raven soared in from above, letting out a rattling caw as it touched down on Erebor's battlements. Thorin looked up once more, this time hopeful as he turned his eyes to the East.

"_I will have war_."

Our eyes followed his as our blood ran cold, and along the crest of the foothills the sound of marching thundered out. An armed host, hundreds strong, and led by half a dozen ram-drawn chariots, rumbled over the crest of the eastern ridge and began the descent towards the valley.

"Are those...dwarves?" I voiced in disbelief.

"Ironfoot." Gandalf stated, with perhaps a hint of distaste in his voice. The dwarves came to a halt, to the cheers of Thorin and his company.

Thranduil suddenly swung his elk away from Erebor, shouting in Elvish as he galloped through his ranks that had began moving to face their new foe.

To avoid being trampled by the host, the Laketowners bustled along with them. I moved best I could amidst the humans, who, unlike the elves, were unused to marching in rank and file and each seemed to walk with a different pace and gait, forcing us to stumble along like children. Bard wove his mount through the throng to draw up alongside me, shouting down as he rode.

"Take my horse and ride to Dale. You will be safe there!"

I shook my head, reluctant to leave the mountain despite my promise to Bofur. Besides, by this point there was no going back, and the only path would be the collision point between the two opposing armies. I looked desperately up to the mountain towards the cheering dwarves, where I caught a glimpse of Bofur - the only one not cheering on his dwarven brethren. He was looking directly at us. I was jostled from behind as I looked up, but Gandalf caught my shoulder and steadied me.

"Who is that?" I heard Bilbo ask the wizard as we continued on and tried to keep pace. "He doesn't look very happy."

I glanced forward to see the commanding dwarf sauntering ahead of his army atop a massive sow.

"It is Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin's cousin." Gandalf explained grimly. "I've always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two." he added after Bilbo questioned him.

I suddenly felt a hand grab my arm and was jerked around to see Bard, now dismounted. He shoved the reins into my hand.

"Go." he ordered simply as the elves unexpectedly came to a synchronized halt around us.

"I'm not the only woman here, Bard." I hissed, quickly looking towards the other townsfolk and seeing a few armed ladies amidst the men. Dain began to speak and I tried to listen, but Bard shook my arm slightly, bringing my attention back towards him.

"You're unarmed. You cannot fight." Bard insisted.

"Then arm me and take back your horse. You'll need it." I insisted right back, trying to push the reins back into his hands.

We were suddenly both distracted as the humans skirted back nervously at the dwarf lord's shouts. Bard steadied his horse and then shouted to the people. "Stand fast!"

"Come now, Lord Dain." Gandalf then stated loudly, stepping out of the ranks.

"Gandalf the Grey." Dain said admonishingly. "Tell this rabble to leave. Or I'll water the ground with their blood!"

"There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves. A legion of orcs march on the Mountain. Stand your army down!" Gandalf yelled.

Dain began to rebuke, his accent thick and his words once again lost on me as I contemplated what I had heard Gandalf just say. A legion of orcs? I looked around but could not detect any signs of an approaching threat.

"...If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then." Dain finished, brandishing his weapon towards Thranduil. He then turned his unusual mount and began riding back towards his ranks.

"Dain! Wait!" Gandalf tried to command, but his shouts were not heeded.

"Let them advance! See how far they get!" Thranduil challenged, his confidence as flourishing as ever.

Despite still charging back up the hillside, Dain found the need to yell over his shoulder. "You think I give a dead dog for your threats, you pointy-eared princess?"

Thranduil's smirk disappeared, his patience seeming to run low.

"Hear that lads? We're on!" Dain continued as he reached the front lines. "Let's give these bastards a good hammering!"

The battle was suddenly becoming all too real yet no one appeared quite panicked so I forced myself to stay calm.

Thranduil cantered along the front lines and addressed Bard as his warriors began marching forward.

"Stand your men down. I'll deal with Ironfoot and his rabble."

Bard obliged and held up an arm to keep the humans in place behind Thranduil's advancing forces.

One of Dain's dwarves then shouted a command in their own tongue, to which the dwarven lines suddenly parted to let through a large cavalry force.

Fortunately it took little time for the entire elvish host to pass us by so that we were well behind a many ranks of well-trained warriors, and yet there was still only the span of the valley between us and almost certain death. Bard struggled to maintain the courage of his volunteer militia, assuring us all of the skill of the elves. A part of me wished I could believe him - I had seen Legolas and Tauriel in action, seen what they could do against unsuspecting orcs. I had also seen the devastation the orcs had wrought upon the elves at the river gateway, and I had a suspicion that at this point Dain would be as unmerciful as Bolg if things took a turn for the worse. In short, most of me was struggling to contain the logical part of my brain, which was screaming at me to scramble right back up the rope I had come down earlier.

The elven archers once again moved in perfect synchrony and took aim, this time towards the oncoming parade of war rams that were thundering down the hillside.

"Thranduil! This is madness!" Gandalf boomed.

Thranduil ordered the arrows to be let loose despite the wizard's plea and I watched the few hundred projectiles soar through the air, my heart pounding hard. The dwarves made no move to protect themselves or evade, but I should have known it would not be over so easily; as Thorin had said, never underestimate dwarves. Before the arrows could start their descent, the dwarves unleashed a secret weapon: from unseen vantage points over the hillside massive contraptions were hurled. Once aloft, their momentum whirled them about, scythe like blades opening to pulverize all arrows before them into splinters.

Not one single arrow reached its mark.

That in itself was troubling, causing gasps from my human companions. What happened next, however, was enough to force even a horrified moan from my lips. Whether by wicked design, or by deadly coincidence, these weapons of war then proceeded to land amidst the front lines of the elven army to devastating effect. Bard's command over the humans was slipping, undermined by sheer terror, and it was all he could do to keep them from fleeing outright.

Thranduil's forces recovered swiftly, though their commander was silent. He stared about in absolute horror and dismay at the unexpected and sudden death of so many of his people, unphased by Dain's taunting remarks. To see the king, so smug and sure in all that he did, bereft even for a single moment, caused me a more acute sadness, one which all the survivors of Laketown must surely have related to.

The elves, reformed and without immediate orders, fired a second volley at the dwarven cavalry, which was now worryingly close. Again, the 'twirly-whirlies' were used to terrible effect. At this point, with the rams bearing down on us, I was wishing for a weapon, a shield, anything to defend myself. To my frantic dismay, however, much of Dale's surviving arms and armament had been left in the city, with Bard's honour guard only carrying what they considered traditional weapons of Laketown.

Thranduil's new orders carried over the din of panicking humans, and elves tending their wounded. The front line of elves pulled back behind their defensive line, archers positioning themselves behind shield bearers, whose shield wall went up just before the dwarves collided with them. From my position, I was shocked to see the mounted cavalry riding right up and over the shield wall, and I worriedly looked to Bard. On horseback as he was, his vantage was better than mine, but he did not seem as worried as I.

"Hold fast!" He shouted as he glanced about at his host. "The elves will not break so easily. Hold fast!"

His words held true. We never saw a single mounted ram. The elven battle lines flexed and bowed, channelling their foes into killing trenches that none but the luckiest dwarf survived, and so it was that the elves took vengeance for their fallen comrades. The front lines were tested by Dain's infantry charge, but Thranduil's rear forces closed ranks, and the battle was joined in earnest.

Above the general racket of the battle, however, I became aware of another strange noise. A crumbling, grinding sound of rock and earth. Both armies quieted, the fighting ceased, as dwarves, elves and humans alike all looked about in confusion and fear as a slight trembling shook the very ground below us.

With a tremulous explosion the rocky slopes of the adjacent foothills burst forth as immense, monstrous creatures shattered through the mountain walls. I watched in frozen terror, yet felt a slight relief when the beasts did not continue onto the field but rather retreated back down the massive chasms they had created. However, a booming horn then rent the air and out of the holes sprung the legions Gandalf had warned about.

"The hordes of hell are upon us! Fight to the death!" Dain cried, as the entire force Iron Hill dwarves began sprinting fearlessly towards the oncoming wave of enemies while the elves began reforming their ranks.

I cast my gaze back up towards Erebor, but it did not appear as if Thorin and his company were moving to join the battle, to which I felt some relief. They would be safe there - for now.

I, however, was not.

Thranduil's force remained still as statues while my fellow humans shifted restlessly in fear, watching the oncoming mass of orcs quickly growing nearer as countless more streamed out of the hillsides. The charging dwarves began to form a shield wall, yet against such a numerous foe it seemed that, though formidable, they would not be able to withstand the onslaught for long.

Gandalf, now desperate, called out to the elven king with one last plea.

"Thranduil! The Dwarves are not your enemy! Your people knew this once! They fought, and _died_, against the very foe that now bears down upon us. Will you do nothing to honour their memory?"

Thranduil said nothing, but finally, with a quick gesture from their king, a contingent of elves began to move, running swiftly with fluid grace towards the new threat. They leapt over the defensive line of dwarves a mere moment before the orcs were to collide, and in the orcs' confusion at this sudden attack they broke the charge's momentum. The dwarves were then able to push forward with their long spears and slow the orcs' momentum further.

The remaining elves were soon forced into motion to join the battle. With the dwarves' shield wall scattered in their eagerness to keep up with the elves' initial onslaught, orcs were now flanking them and moving forward to attack the main force. Bard kept the townsfolk together, not eager to send them to their deaths in a battle they were far out-classed in. Gandalf and Bilbo hung back as well, and I with them, nervously watching as the battle lines became more confused and confrontation drew inevitably closer.

Two more horn blasts rent the air.

"Azog..." Gandalf muttered, and I looked about in fear only to realize the wizard was gazing far off into the distance. "He's trying to cut us off."

From his vantage point Bard must also have seen something I could not, because he was suddenly shouting above the din to get his people moving. "All of you! Fall back to Dale! Now!"

Gandalf urged Bilbo and I forward along with the townsfolk as they began to surge ahead and sure enough, as we neared, I could see a second battalion of orcs, joined by a small company of troll mounted siege-weapons, already marching on the nearly unprotected city.

Bard cantered his horse back towards us then yelled at me to give him my arm.

"Go with him, girl! Get to the city!" Gandalf ordered gruffly, looking over his shoulder at us as he ran.

I obliged then lifted my hand and allowed Bard to pull me up behind him. Without another word he urged his mount to a gallop and we hastened towards the nearest causeway.

I gripped Bard tightly and turned my head to see, in horrified wonder, a number of giant stones hurdling through the air. They shattered the ancient outer walls of Dale and I severely doubted a group of misplaced, vulnerable humans could stand against such a formidable enemy.

When we crossed into the city it was already pandemonium, people screaming and jostling through the narrow alleys, easily being slain as they tried to run from the orcs now streaming in and mazing through the streets. The few men and hardy women left in the city had taken up what arms they could quickly grab, some wielding no more than a rusted shovel.

Bard rode down a few of the creatures and then dismounted when no more were in immediate sight.

"Ride to the great hall, tell any women and children to follow you there, then start barricading the doors." he commanded quickly as I scooted up onto the saddle and nodded my understanding. He drew his sword and rushed forward a few paces against the oncoming crowd.

I reined in Bard's horse as more people ran past, unsure where I even needed to go. I watched Bard for a moment as he shouted for his children. At that moment the small battalion of townsfolk from the field had finally caught up to him, announcing the causeway was becoming overrun. Bard quickly ordered the archers to the eastern parapet then turned back to me, pointing up an empty street and urging me to go before he ordered his remaining men to follow him to the market.

Turning the horse, I headed in the direction he had indicated at a quick trot, shouting for the women and children to fall back to the great hall, blatantly ignoring the few bodies my horse had to sidestep. I stopped briefly to pick up a small crying boy who had refused to move despite my shouts, and had to steady my resolve when he pointed a small finger towards a bloodied woman lying face-down nearby. I wordlessly hoisted him up in front of the saddle, quickly stooping down to pick up a discarded spear lying nearby as well, before I jumped up behind him and carried on towards the heart of the city.

Despite careful avoidance of the loud infested areas, there were orcs everywhere, and while nearing the city centre an orc burst out of the shell of a burned out building and into my path. Urging my horse to a canter, I gripped the child with one hand, and drove the spear into the surprised creature with the other, quickly letting go of the lodged weapon so it would not unseat me.

Keeping my momentum quick, I sped through another winding street and into a courtyard where before me lay a large impressive building that was once surely the mighty great hall of Dale. The elderly and the injured were being carefully led inside while woman dashed past with children in their arms. I dismounted and pulled down the child, who was still hiccupping sobs, then carried him inside, leading the horse behind me as well.

The hall was bustling with activity and already nearly full of people. A lady ran up to me and gratefully pulled the child out of my arms, embracing him heartedly and telling me she was his aunt.

"His mother?" she asked me quietly as she patted and rubbed the boy's back.

I frowned and stiffly shook my head, solemnly watching as the woman's eyes filled with tears. She nodded once and hugged the boy closer before thanking me for keeping him safe and disappearing into the crowd.

I looked around at the vulnerable citizens of Laketown, most of them busy holding their loved ones, comforting each other, and I felt rather alone. No one was running up to me in relief for my safe arrival.

I pulled Bard's horse towards the wall and tethered it to an old torch sconce, then sat down on a nearby, partially rotted bench, ignoring the layer of dust that coated it. I watched more people filing in through the large main doors, idly looking around for what would be best to use as a barricade.

Finally through the entrance came someone I did recognize. I got up and sprinted towards Bard's children, pointedly ignoring Alfrid who had pushed his way through in front of them.

"Sigrid!" I shouted, pulling her into a quick hug then appraising the three of them for any signs of injury. "Did you see your father?" I asked quickly when I saw they were unharmed.

"We were just with him, he sent us back." Bain explained. "It's getting worse out there."

I bit my lip and nodded, leading the girls back to my empty bench while Bain helped begin construction of a barricade to block the door.

"That's a funny dress." Tilda said with a shy smile as she sat down next to her sister.

"Don't be rude." Sigrid scolded lightly with a slight nudge, but then she looked at me and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Though... that _is_ interesting." she added somewhat apologetically.

I smiled and looked down at my dark leggings and brown leather boots clearly visible since the hem of the dark blue dress I was wearing only floated around my knees. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and sat down as well.

"I know it looks odd, but Erebor's wardrobe was somewhat limited." I said with a grin and Sigrid nodded in understanding.

"It doesn't look so bad really, I'm sure it was nice to change into something clean at any rate. We haven't been able to find much here, most of us only have what we left in." she said with a small frown.

"Hmm," I pondered, "well, I can likely snag you a few of these lovely outfits. Maybe we can start a new fashion trend together."

She smiled, but suddenly we heard our names being called and looked to see Bain beckoning us over to help move a large upended table. Every last capable person on their feet pitched in fortifying the great hall. In short order the barricades were complete, and an ominous silence fell on the hall as everyone settled down - not to rest or relax, but to wait in anxious but quiet fear as the sounds of battle drew closer.

For a second time, the Laketowners were at the mercy of an unstoppable foe while a city burned around them.


	27. The Darkest Hour

There is no greater torture than waiting.

Waiting with no purpose or hope of deliverance, while death looms nearer and nearer.

Such was the torture we faced.

I tried to keep Bard's children distracted with light conversation but as the day wore on silence eventually overtook us, and our thoughts turned to those we had been forced to part from. Finally, the silence became too much. I left Bain, Sigrid and Tilda, under the pretence of finding them something to eat, and once far enough from their view I leaned up against one of the great hall's pillars and let my head rest against the cool stone.

The cold was refreshing, and brought some clarity with it, but also memory. Memory of the cold waters of the river Bofur and I had swam in, memory of the fear I had felt when parted from the company in the mountains - not fear for myself, but for them. Here I was again, separate from them once more, and this time with so much more to lose. My hand reached up to follow the strands of hair down my braid to the wooden token of Bofur's affections, and tears strayed unbidden to my eyes.

"Poor dear," some strange woman cooed into my ear, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Don't fret, we'll be alright."

"I'm not crying because I'm worried about us!" I snapped, causing her to jump and stiffen.

"I'm sorry." I said gently after taking a breath. I looked at her for the first time and was surprised to see she looked more thoughtful then offended.

She nodded. "To be honest dear, I don't think anyone here is worried about themselves." Then suddenly she stood up and addressed the crowd.

"Look at us, sitting here like fat hens in a coop!" she preached, stepping to the wall and picking up a large makeshift spear. "I say we stand with our men, in life, and in death!"

I smiled and felt a small courage and hope blossom within me as she encouraged the able woman to arm themselves. Grateful for the opportunity to actually _do_ something about our situation, I quickly cast my eyes around the hall and fortunately I saw what I was looking for. I ran up to a man who was leaning up against the back wall, his leg wrapped tight with cloth seeped through with blood. An older woman was leaning over him, fussing over a large cut on his face.

"Might I borrow your sword?" I asked, indicating to the sheathed longsword that lie forgotten at his side. They both stared at me a moment in shock then finally the man nodded once. I thanked him as I grabbed the weapon and then returned to the group who were preparing for battle. I was surprised to see not only most of the woman, but also the majority of the elderly, had taken up arms to fight. I grinned at their toughness, despite the sinking feeling that this was the_ final_ stand, and that our purpose was simply to go out with a bang.

The group had taken what armour and weapons they could from the wounded and a lady with grey hair and steely eyes helped me into an old brigandine to protect my torso. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the molded leather and rusty steel, but was grateful for the protective layer. I buckled the scabbard across my chest so that the longsword hung down my back, then tested drawing it over my shoulder. It was heavy, a motion I was not used to, but when I brought the sword in front of me and gripped it with both hands I felt a small sense of familiarity, remembering my crash course with Fili. Another woman approached and offered me a helm but, after a moment's thought, I refused, wanting my vision to be completely unobstructed.

Finally, the barricade was removed and we all gathered in front of the door, glancing at each other, hiding our nervousness behind resolved eyes. I saw Bain amidst the crowd, holding up a sword in front of him, his face set with obstinate determination, and I knew he would fight to the very end in hopes of saving his sisters. My thoughts flashed briefly to Bilbo and Gandalf, and I wondered if they had made it to the city... if they were still alive somewhere...

The sounds of fighting were now all around us, and we could tell what few of our warriors had remained to defend the great hall would soon be overwhelmed.

"They're here!" Someone shouted from one of the windows, and through the crack in the great doors we watched orcs blunder into the courtyard. The woman who had rallied us to arms urged us to wait, counting down until they were nearly upon us, until finally with a shout we burst through the doors and charged down the stairs to meet the enemy head on.

I raced down the steps, one of the front-runners and pushed on by a swell of bodies behind me as we rushed forwards, all the fear and desperation from Smaug's attack, the helplessness of being in a battle we could not escape from, all channeled into this single purpose. Using my momentum to my advantage, I swung hard at one of the orcish party and my blade sunk deep into its shoulder, rendering its arm useless.

I could only guess that these orcs had not encountered any sizeable defence up to this point - likely only the weak and wounded in small groups - as our sudden furious attack in such great numbers caused them to try to fall back, but to no avail.

The power and desperation in our initial chaotic collision allowed us to struck down their most courageous on the front lines, and we were then able to fight our way through the less sure amidst their numbers, those that had tried to hide in the masses and only offered a feeble fight before trying to flee, which put them at the disadvantage.

After doing what I felt was my fair share, I climbed back up the first few steps, gaining a better vantage over the combat site. Those injured now retreated back into the hall, limping or being carried, yet for every fallen human, several orcs now lay dead. When our fearless leader stepped up to join me, her look of triumph faltered slightly when she noticed I was not smiling. I had seen the legions of Azog the Defiler, and I knew that this was but a single rain drop in the storm raging beyond the courtyard. It was merely a small victory, but the war was far from over.

A few ragged shouts drew our attention - not in the tongue of orcs, but of men. From up one of the side-streets from the East, Percy the gatekeeper and a few stragglers bustled into our midst. The women surrounded them, immediately searching for loved ones and tending the wounded. Percy made his way to the foot of the stairs, explaining how the war as a whole was progressing.

"...elves are holding the main avenue, but are being pushed back. Bard was trying to link up with them last we saw. We have no archers left and the east wall is in ruins. The city will be overrun soon."

He looked up at us as he drew near, and took my grim demeanour to be a direct result of his ill-news. He offered a hopeful grimace.

"There's some hope yet, miss. Last thing we saw before abandoning the battlements was the dwarves charging from the mountain. They had horns blowing and bells ringing as the dwarves rallied to their king and his company." He climbed the steps past me, patting me on the shoulder as he went. "What a sight it was."

I stood numbly on the stairs as people moved here and there about me, as still as a statue with only my expression changing - first to disbelief, then to shock as I ran through his words again, slowly. _Their king and his company_.

"Bofur." I whispered, startling those around me as I suddenly began a wild flight up the stairs and into the hall. Moments later, I charged forth through the doors on Bard's white stallion, leaving people startled in my wake as I galloped across the courtyard. The horse vaulted the barricades hastily erected on the main avenue, which I rushed down at breakneck speed towards the last known position of the elves.

The conflict should have been heaviest there, and while I passed a few pockets of fighting I spotted no sign of Thranduil or his Royal Guard. Had I not had such single-minded purpose, I may have found that fact to be disturbing, but less fighting played out in my favour, and so in little less than a few minutes I was thundering up to the gatehouse and the main causeway.

As I approached, the body of a large animal came into view, and for a moment I feared wargs had joined the battle. Warily closing the distance, it became clear this was no warg, but in fact an elk of massive proportions. I slowed my horse to a walk, guiding it around the body while regarding it with detached curiosity, when I suddenly recognized it as the great mount of Thranduil. Finally, the absence of the elves struck me. With such a vast and powerful host completely absent from the field of battle, my fear for Bofur only intensified. I slowed to a stop, hastily looking about for the body of the elven king, but saw no sign of him. With no more time to spare, I steadied myself for what was ahead. Then, with no small degree of caution, I nudged the horse forward onto the causeway and caught my first view of the nightmare that was open warfare.

There were no marching lines of troops in glittering armour. No banner-men waving their flags high. This was whole and total chaos. The orderly combat manoeuvres I had witnessed in the early stages of battle had degenerated to individual fighting - every man, elf, dwarf and orc for themselves. There was no way of even telling where to start looking for Bofur, but if he was with Thorin, I imagined them to be where the fighting was thickest - right where my natural instincts urged me to avoid.

I knew I was simply a target, a vulnerable one at that, especially if I tried to charge through the valley on a large steed. I could not slay a hundred foes and turn the tides of the battle. I could not make an impact whatsoever... but that was not my purpose. Dale was infested, there was nowhere to hide, and there was no escape. I would be lucky to survive until sunset, no matter where I was. My purpose was not to be the hero, but to try and find Bofur, to be by his side for the end... _whatever_ end.

I was already being too slow in my actions, as a few orcs had noticed my stalled position and began rushing onto the stone bridge. I reached behind me and gripped the handle of my sword, but then thought better of it. I could not wield it with just one hand, and likely could not control the horse either. Instead I returned proper grip on the reins, kicked my horse hard and leaned forward as we burst into a gallop. Luckily the orcs were not expecting such a hasty onslaught and had no time to prepare a strike; instead, the lucky ones jumped aside while the others were ran down as I unexpectedly charged through the group.

I urged my horse faster as we set foot upon the valley, guiding him to follow along the banks of the frozen river, trying to flank most of the action as I attempted to cover as much distance as I could. I knew I was likely committing the animal to death - it was only a matter of time, but I also knew that on foot I would make little to no progress at all. I rode hard, often having to violently skirt to the side as orcs lunged in efforts to cut us down.

Surprised and slightly emboldened by my progress, I began to veer towards the centre of the valley, where the fighting became denser, but I could only avoid confrontation for so long. Like I suspected, it was just a matter of time. I struggled to direct the frightened stallion through the growing chaos and over the sea of bodies, but suddenly it seemed that every orc ahead of us had become acutely aware of our presence, and they all wanted to put an end to it.

When I finally saw the strike, there was nothing I could do. A crude, black blade hit my horse square in the chest, buckling its front legs as it tumbled forward to its death. There was the briefest of moments where I felt myself flying, falling through the air as I was hurdled over the neck of the animal in its abrupt stop. The breath was forced out of my body as I landed hard, grinding into the ground before I came to a halt on my back.

Pain surged through me and I struggled to move. I had no time to lay still and recover, and I felt my longsword digging into me uncomfortably. I pushed myself up in a rush, staggering slightly, but the enemies advancing towards me on all sides coerced my legs to become rock steady. I reached behind with my hand, ignoring the drumming pain in my shoulder and neck, as I drew out my weapon.

Then I was only reacting. I had no time for thought. No time for fear. I simply had to react. I had to react correctly... or die. The reach of my sword enabled me to keep the orcs at a more manageable distance. I was quick, and light on my feet, but heavy with my strikes as I focused my entire body's weight behind each blow.

I killed half a dozen rather quickly, but more kept pressing forward. I could not move off, I could not even stop to look around. That's when the doubt began to leach into mind, distracting my subconscious actions in combat, filling me with fear and causing me to falter. Suddenly a blade was halting my own, and an orc much stronger than I was pushing my sword away with his. He stepped towards me, a jagged dagger held aloft in his other hand.

I did not know what to do.

I jerked back in alarm when suddenly his head toppled from his shoulders and to my feet. I looked up to see Thorin staring at me, black blood dripping from his sword tip. Without a word he sidestepped and began slaughtering the cluster of orcs that surrounded us. I gathered my wits and urged myself into motion once more

Having seen Thorin in only one other battle, and in that case having witnessed his defeat at the hands of a massive warg after fighting his way through an entire mountain full of goblins, I was unsure what to expect. The king, however, proved his mettle. Every one of his strikes seemed perfectly timed, and while I had a hard time focusing on one enemy, he dodged, spun and struck, engaging several foes at once.

After I finally managed to get a clean hit on a particularly nimble orc, I admired Thorin's handiwork as he brought his sword down into the neck of one, pulled it clean to parry another's blade coming in from behind him, spun and knocked a shield out of the way as easily as batting a curtain aside, punched the shield-bearer so hard as to drop the creature to the ground, drove his sword into the orc wielding the blade he had just parried, grabbed said blade and threw it into the shoulder of the orc he had punched - all of that, in very quick succession. The few orcs that survived turned heel and ran.

Finally we had some air, and Thorin firmly took my arm and pulled me to an overturned chariot, tugging me down so that we were both ducking behind it. I leaned against the side, breathing hard, my muscles burning, and dropped my sword for a moment to stretch my hand. I then glanced at Thorin and appraised him almost fearfully. I noticed he no longer donned the heavy ceremonial armour I had last seem him in, but instead only wore a chainmail hauberk for protection which, if anything, made him seem even more formidable. His gaze, however, seemed clear and sharp.

"I thought my eyes had deceived me - you should not be here. The battlefront is no place-" he began but I cut him off.

"My place is alongside Bofur... with the company." I said evenly, though my voice was rather strained from the growing soreness of my body.

His gaze softened slightly, the shadow of a smile on his mouth. He reached a hand up and placed it on my shoulder then leaned in slightly.

"I have wronged you." he began earnestly, causing me to blink in disbelief. "I am ashamed of my actions. I am sorry to have ever questioned your loyalty." he smirked and shook his head slightly. "Not just any woman would fight her way through an orc army to reunite with a dwarf."

I smiled somewhat as Thorin peered over the chariot for a moment. He ducked back down and met my eyes once more.

"If it is any consolation now, I give you and Bofur my blessing." he continued, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze then dropping his hand. "He loves you fiercely."

Thorin suddenly jumped up as an orc vaulted over the side of the cart. He dodged out of the way and elbowed the creature in the back so hard it fell forward onto the ground. Without hesitation he plunged his blade into the orc's back, twisting until it began to twitch piteously.

He yanked free his sword then quickly knelt back down in front of me. "More are coming. Prepare yourself."

"Thorin. I-" my mouth was dry. He looked at me urgently. "I don't know if I can." I whispered, frustrated tears filling my eyes. I was almost spent. I could not carry on much longer.

"You can, because you have to." he encouraged, pulling me to my feet and handing me my sword.

The metal chariot behind us rolled forward, causing us to lunge out of the way as the massive club of a troll levered it up and over onto the earth we had been sitting on seconds prior. The troll was set upon by several dwarves, but was still causing catastrophic damage with its wild death throes, forcing us back into the heat of the battle. Thorin was once again beset on all sides, and it was all I could do to avoid getting in his way, while watching for the opportune moment to strike a blow or distract one orc away from the multitude around us.

As I stood panting after a particularly intense bout, one hand on my knee while the other balanced on the pommel of my sword which rested tip first in the ground, I heard Thorin shout from where he had just finished off an orc with a hefty overhand swing.

"Dain!"

The ebb of battle lessened slightly for a moment, and I could see the king's fiery cousin closing in on us. Thorin spun to finish another orc, while I lunged forward from my position to drive my sword up under the arm of an enemy taking a wild spear thrust at my companion's exposed back.

"Hold on! I'm coming!" I heard as the wild dwarf warrior leapt onto the back of one of his quarries and rode it to Thorin's side. It appeared the casual grace of killing ran in the Durin family lines, as he easily dispatched both his unfortunate 'mount' along with two more with his massive warhammer before embracing Thorin roughly.

"Hey cousin, what took you so long?!" he demanded as he pulled back. He then looked over the king's shoulder to see me pulling my blade clear of the spear-wielding orc before wiping it on my sleeve. I finally turned and closed the distance towards them, hearing Dain half-whisper to Thorin out of the corner of his mouth as I did.

"Blimey, I thought tha' was an elf..." He straightened up, leaning on the haft of his hammer with one hand while still clasping Thorin's shoulders with his other arm.

"You dog you, stopping to flirt with every pretty face on the battlefield, eh? You're as bad as Dis's sons, 'cept with none of the charm." He let go of Thorin with a laugh and reached out his hand to me in greeting, and so I lifted mine, only to be surprised by the dwarf bringing it to his lips to kiss it - such a gentleman on a battlefield.

"Dain Ironfoot, at yer service lass."

I could see Thorin rolling his eyes behind Dain, and offered a wry smile and the slightest shrug of a shoulder to the king in response, as if to say 'I'll take what I can get'. This caused a rare moment - one, if not the only time, I made the surly Thorin Oakenshield laugh, even if it was stifled by his fist the moment it left his lips and thus came out more like a snort. Still, his eyes betrayed him.

Dain let my hand drop and turned back to Thorin. I followed and stood just back to one side of them, my eyes flittering around nervously looking for Bofur as they spoke. When asked about his plan for turning the tides, Thorin cast his eyes to the hill on which Azog commanded his legions, and then looked back to us with conviction.

"We're going to take out their leader." he stated matter-of-factly.

"Azog." Dain muttered in slight apprehension, though his musing was cut short as Thorin rushed past me. I turned to see he had grabbed hold of a lone ram that had appeared through the throng, miraculously unharmed - though it had been riderless. Thorin shot us a knowing glance before gracefully leaping up onto the ram's saddle and grabbing the reins.

"I'm going to kill that piece of filth!" he spat, his eyes glinting.

"Thorin. You cannot do this. You're our king." Dain protested, stepping forward as he shifted his hammer to his other hand.

"That is why I must do it." Thorin uttered and I saw in him then the leader he truly was, the reason why he had such loyal and dedicated followers, the true King Under the Mountain.

"And how do you plan to fight your way single-handed to Ravenhill?" Dain questioned, looking towards the ruined tower.

From the direction of the mountain, I heard a distinctly familiar shout above the turmoil.

"Halt!"

Dain and I were suddenly forced back as the dwarven ranks parted to make way for one of their war chariots, which skittered to halt alongside us, somewhat unceremoniously. Dwalin manned the automatic crossbow, and was now glancing back at his brother incredulously. Fili and Kili were clinging to the edges, while Balin, at the reins, cast a reluctant glance down towards us.

"Well, it's been a while since I've done this." He admitted to us all.

"Thorin, wait!" I shouted before he could urge his steed forward, and at that moment the others seemed to become aware of my presence. Kili uttered my name in disbelief, while Fili, Balin and Dwalin stared down at me with wide-eyes.

I glanced towards Kili, trying to placate his concerned expression with a reassuring smile. He shook his head, frowning, and began to say something but I held up my hand and cut him off, looking back to Thorin.

"Where is he?" I asked urgently.

"Eastward, towards the valley's centre." Thorin directed with an arm. "Don't stop." he added, fixing me with a hard stare.

I glanced quickly towards the direction he had indicated, and saw only disorder and death. I squared my shoulders and nodded.

After an encouraging shout, Thorin kicked his ram and it careened into motion. Balin held the chariot for a moment longer and I dared to peer up at them all, my gaze automatically setting on Kili's conflicted face.

"Go!" I shouted to them, but directing my comment to Kili. "I'll be alright." I held up my sword, trying to ignore the numerous hurts that now riddled my tired body. "I had good teachers, remember?"

Kili's face softened and he nodded slightly, setting his jaw. "You two had better be alive when I get back!" He ordered with mock severity, pointing towards me. "I've put far too much work into your relationship to have it wasted by a few mangy orcs!"

I smiled and stepped away from the chariot.

"Hold tight, lads!" Balin shouted after sparing me one more glance before the chariot lurched forward.

"They're all mad bastards!" Dain shouted, looking to me with a smile. "I like it." he added. Yet he looked back towards his kin, his countenance becoming more sombre as we watched them speed away towards Ravenhill. "May Durin save you all." he muttered quietly.

We did not have long to linger in thought as another wave of orcs swept in on our position. Thorin and the chariot were engulfed into their ranks, but their wake was only visible for a moment before they closed in and our enemy charged. Their momentum carried them far into the dwarvish battle lines, and I quickly found that we were once again on the front lines - and by 'we', I meant just myself.

I quickly looked around, but Dain was no longer at my side, the fight taking him further into the valley while orcs circled around to flank his position. This brought them directly into my path. I sucked in a breath, looking over the host of enemies that now had eyes only for me.

I then grinned stupidly as I sheathed my sword and simply turned tail and ran. I did not look back.

I roughly shoved an orc in front of me aside, and then dodged around a dwarf deep in combat. As I ran, I looked at every dwarf a second longer and desperately hoped Bofur had not donned an actual helm or he would blend in with them all. My side was soon aching, sweat dripping down my forehead and stinging my eyes, and I was only forced to stop when an orc finally succeeded in engaging me, blocking my progress with an outstretched weapon. I rapidly calculated my chance of escape, feinting to one side only to be mirrored by the savage creature, and realized I would have no choice but to fight.

The orc charged.

In my youth, when told tales of combat by my father, I had always imagined the hero having ample time to draw his sword, face off his opponent and spout some witty remark. Even in my own limited experience, when beset with enemies earlier on, it had been relatively easy to unsheathe my weapon while standing still. In this case, however, I barely had time to turn and run back the way I came, wildly grasping for my sword hilt and trying to wrench it from its scabbard, while the orc barrelled forward behind me at full speed. Finally the longsword came free. I regretted spending so much time on complicated manoeuvres and none on practising such a simple, and necessary, motion. Getting both hands about its hilt I swung wildly, letting the weight of the blade carry me around.

I hit absolutely nothing, but the swing had an unintentional side effect.

The orc, heavily armoured as it was, was running full tilt to catch up to me, and would have done brilliantly if not for my sudden unexpected twist to one side, which caused the orc to overshoot and crash into a defensive circle of dwarves. The dwarven shield wall broke open, and instantly the orc was pulled through to be dispatched within. One of them beckoned to me, his shield still down to allow me access to the protection offered beyond, but I shook my head with a rueful smile then turned to continue towards Bofur's last known position.

I kept my sword drawn now. On my way further into the valley, where Thorin and company led the dwarves' final charge, the fighting grew heavier. I was forced to skirt away from a line of enemies that had approached from the south but I soon found that northwards, in the shadow of the mountain, was even worse off. Here I found I was completely at the mercy of the ebb and flow of the battle, and my progress towards my destination slowed to a painful crawl while waiting for my odds of survival to increase to something above negligible at best.

It was during this waiting that the dwarves around me suddenly began shouting desperately in Khuzdul and closing ranks, falling back from the location they had been pushing towards. It only took a quick look in that direction to see why. I watched in fearful awe as a large mutilated troll bouldered towards us through the orcs, heading in the direction of the river. Its feet and hands were severed and replaced with heavy weapons, and it had driving chains stuck through its eyelids.

The blind creature was effectively crushing anything it stepped on, and, fortunately, happened to decimate the orcs that had been hindering our advance. Its driver was clearly a rather despicable orc, one with no interest in distinguishing between his allies and foes - that, or the troll was out of control, as it seemed to be killing far more orcs than dwarves as it wandered helter-skelter on its way. In fact, it seemed like it wasn't killing any dwarves at all. I cast my eyes up to the saddle on the back of the huge beast as it meandered away, and my mouth dropped open as I caught sight of the rider.

"Bofur?" I questioned disbelievingly to myself. I squinted, trying to get a good look at the figure that was quickly growing smaller as the distance between us grew. There was no mistaking that tell-tale floppy hat.

Dwarves around me were coming to the same realization, and their tactical retreat turned into a full blown advance in the disarray left by Bofur's unexpected appearance. I, however, cursed as I realized I had travelled needlessly into the heart of the battle and now had to retrace my steps and work my way back towards the river after all. At least the dwarves would clear my way for a short time, though not long enough for me to catch up to the blasted troll.

As I began back westward, Fili's tutelage undoubtedly saved my life countless times when confronted by foes, though more and more often I had to rely on my allies for help. Despite several hasty offers for protection, I forced myself to continue on alone behind the troll's path of destruction, with fatigue beginning to wear on me.

My weariness led to mistakes.

In my search for an easy way back towards the river's edge, I strayed too far into the orcish ranks, and eventually was encircled by a ring of taunting foes. They edged each other on; making remarks in their crude tongue, until finally one was shoved forward and set upon me. I fought it with reckless abandon and the first orc fell to my sword. The second lasted much longer, and I couldn't help but shake the feeling that it was toying with me, much the same as Kili had during practice.

Unknowing tears streamed down my face and I began to accept and prepare myself for the inevitable end. I would certainly feel foolish if the war was won, and Bofur came to look for me in Dale, like he promised he would, but here I would be, dead on the battlefield in some foolish attempt at bravado - though, of course I wouldn't _feel_ foolish, or anything else for that matter - I'd be dead. Yet judging from the looks of things, and hearing the desperate shouts ring out across the valley, I very much doubted there was much hope for anybody.

I choked back a cry as another orc lunged forward at me only an instant after the second one received a fatal strike. I was forced into using one hand against the flat of my blade to brace my sword against the power of its oncoming blow. I stumbled back, barely clutching my sword as I fell hard against the ground. My hands trembled with the shock they had absorbed, unresponsive to my desires to lift them up and protect myself. The orc raised its sinister weapon high, only to suddenly lurch sideways so hard that it flew several feet horizontally and scattered the wall of its orcish kin. My would-be killer was replaced by the business-end of the massive red warhammer of Dain.

"Take's a special kind'a scumbag to draw out the death of another. Couldn't let the bastards have the satisfaction now could we?" He asked, roughly grasping my shoulder and hauling me abruptly to my feet despite my taller stature.

I reeled at what had seemed to be my immediate demise, whirling about and drawing in shaky gasps. Staggering around, I watched with detached recognition as Dain's dwarves carved into the orcish ranks, clearing a small area once more. Dain was still talking, but I could hardly understand him at the best of times, and I only caught the tail end of his urgings - something about not sauntering off so deep behind enemy lines again. Clarity caught up with me, and I leaned on my sword and drew a steadier breath, focusing on the way forward.

"Yeh alright then, lass?" Dain shouted at me as he hefted up his weapon, sparing me another quick glance before locking eyes with his next target.

I nodded at him though he was already moving off.

I looked around, knowing that each break in the fighting, each clearing, was extremely temporary - a fleeting moment of rest until the constant tide of enemies and allies fluxed into new positions to find new targets. I knew _my_ odds of becoming a target were increasing each minute I lingered in this mess. I no longer had the strength to fell targets of my own. The enemy was beginning to swarm around me once more and I recoiled towards some of the armoured Ironfoot warriors.

In that moment I finally I caught a glimpse of the dwarf I had faced death to find.

No longer atop the troll, I watched Bofur fight in harmony with his brother and cousin only a few yards away.

I shouted his name, and though there was likely no chance of him hearing me over the din of battle, I liked to think that the next whirl of his head was on my behalf, and not simply to seek out his next target. Before anyone could stop me, I was moving forward along the carnage, stepping numbly between sparring combatants towards the one I loved. In my mind I pictured him turning to see me in a moment of respite... him rushing towards me to wrap me in his arms...

In reality, it was a gruesome looking goblin who embraced my lower leg, snapping me out of my reverie. It leered at me vilely as it flashed a wicked looking knife, and my immediate reaction was to punch it as fast as I could in the face, hard. Unfortunately, the goblin's larger counterpart now facing me down would not be dealt with so easily. I rose up on tiptoes, trying to spot Bofur somewhere nearby, but to no avail. I reached a hand back to feel for the longsword's now near familiar hilt. Then I took a more wild grasp for it. Nothing.

"Sod it..." I hissed in frustration, remembering now that I had left the sword standing upright, tip buried some several paces away after I became distracted upon seeing Bofur on the field. To be so close to my goal, having come through a battlefield of trained killers, only to be routed by an unarmoured goblin mercenary mostly because I _forgot my sword_, would be so unfair. At least I could make a good go of it. I raised my fists - my only experience in unarmed combat being from watching bar room brawls - and went to step forward, only to be grabbed once again by the damned little vermin, now with a much uglier face.

I fell to my knees with a scream as it tripped me, furious at first, then hopeless. The large goblin advanced, its tiny counterpart skittering around to join it. I slammed my fists into the ground and shouted Bofur's name once more, willing him to see me with all the hope I had left.

_Find me._

The tiny goblin crumpled into the dirt, flattened completely by the hammer blow to its head. My initial thought was Dain, to the rescue again, but as the larger goblin was dispatched by a violent strike to the side of its face, I looked up, and there he was - the answer to my plea.

Tears fell from my face once more, and I bent the rest of the way forward towards the ground, my whole body trembling as adrenalin thrummed through it. Before my elbows touched the blood stained dirt, he was sliding quickly onto his knees before me, arms under my own to stop my fall. His hat tumbled down my back as he embraced me fiercely.

I laced my aching arms around his neck as he pulled me up to my feet.

"How-" he began as he pulled back slightly to look at me. He seemed to lose his words as I trembled slightly, my feet unsteady beneath me, my body completely out of resources. He steadied me, his arm firm under my own. I noticed he was no longer wearing his plate armour, and had only arm guards and spaulders left in terms of protection.

His eyes frantically searched mine as he reached up a hand to my cheek, rubbing his thumb over my bloodied skin. "How are you here?" he asked.

"I came to find you." I replied tiredly. "Dale is lost." I added, looking wistfully back towards the city.

His eyes softened even though he frowned and he looked me over once more, critically this time, taking note of all the tears in my clothing and the splatters of blood that now covered me.

"You're hurt." He said, one of his hands sliding over my side - which I noticed was staining red from below my now very battle worn brigandine. "And you have no weapon?" he asked incredulously.

I smiled somewhat contritely. "I had one... I forgot it back there." I admitted.

He shook his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. "What will I ever do with you?"

I grinned despite my pain and exhaustion. "Don't make me leave you again." I responded tartly as he reached down to retrieve his filthy hat.

"Trust me," Bofur said as straightened up, lifting his weapon at the ready. "I will never leave your side again."

Fortunately we were given a moment of respite and I was able to better catch my breath. Bombur and Bifur had fought their way towards us and were now keeping a small clearing open.

"I saw you." I said to Bofur, wishing I still had my sword to lean on as standing upright was becoming no easy task. "On a troll... how on earth-?" I began to ask, but was cut short when he suddenly pushed me behind him as an orc snuck past his family's defences.

"Luck." he replied happily over his shoulder before moving to take down the incomer.

The large orc, however, proved to be more than 'luck' could handle, as before Bofur could get in a hit, the creature struck him hard in the chest. I shouted out helplessly as Bofur was flung back, landing just in front of me.

Before Bofur could regain his footing, I heard a wild yell from behind me and saw Bifur run past to the rescue of his cousin. Rather than utilizing his weapon, Bifur simply took a wild lunge at the orc, leaping into the air in flying headbutt. Bofur and I watched in wonder as Bifur became locked head to head with the beast and we both realized with incredulous clarity that the axe tip lodged in Bifur's head was now being shared.

Bofur scrambled to his feet and ran to grab onto Bifur's waist to help try to pull him free. I ran up behind him, adding to the unusual tug-o-war, then Bombur rushed up to grab my waist as well.

It became quickly apparent that our efforts were not effective so Bofur decided to change tactics.

"PUSH!" he yelled and we all heaved forward, forcing the orc blindly backwards. I expected the goal was to wait for it to trip up, and then deal with it from there. Before that could happen, though, we ran out of land. The orc could not keep itself from being pushed over the edge of a small cliff, and I felt for sure that the fall would dislodge the pesky axe.

Yet even as Bifur was bent nearly double, us holding him from plunging face first off the rise, and the orc now held aloft only by the axe embedded in both heads, the thing would just not be free. I knew we were currently the strangest sight on the battlefield, perhaps _ever_, and was sure even enemies would hesitate to strike us down until they had witnessed the conclusion of our ridiculousness.

I felt Bombur release me and worried for a moment we would all simply plummet over the rocky ledge, but Bofur held steady despite Bifur now leaning dangerously far over the edge. I then watched with wide eyes as Bombur leapt down over the side and disappeared. He must have grabbed hold of the orc, and it must have worked, because after another second we were suddenly free of the weight and tumbling backwards over ourselves.

I groaned as my body took another wave of abuse, landing hard on my back and Bofur falling on my lower half. We all sat up, rather flustered and then Bofur stilled, looking at Bifur. I leaned forward to see what the matter was.

"By Durin! You've lost your axe!" Bofur exclaimed.

Bifur put his hand up to his head and when he felt nothing there he let out a small noise of panic.

"No he's not!" Bombur yelled unexpectedly, and we all looked up to see him running towards us, waving the weapon fragment in the air before proudly offering it back to Bifur, somewhat out of breath. "There you go, cousin."

Bifur took hold of the axe piece and looked at it.

"You know where you can stick that!" he uttered fiercely before carelessly tossing it over his shoulder.

We all gaped at him as he got to his feet but had no time to further question his (perhaps altered) state of mind. An oncoming assault of orcs had joined those already in the area, and together their numbers were now forcing back any dwarves that stood in their path, us being amongst them. Bofur quickly helped me up and we retreated further towards Erebor, having to stop every few moments to fight down the outlier orcs and goblins that lie between us and the remaining ranks of Ironhill dwarves.

Once amidst his people, Bofur hurriedly exchanged a few words with one of the soldiers.

"Everyone's pulling back to the mountain. Dain's folk are buying time for the wounded to fortify the entrance." Bofur explained to me afterwards.

"We could go with them." He offered, his desire to protect me overwhelming his reluctance to leave the front lines. In response to that, I managed to pick up a smaller axe dropped by one of the dwarves, of no use for penetrating armour, but better than nothing at all. I looked squarely at him, holding the weapon close. If he wished to stay, so be it. He regarded me severely for a moment, and I forced my aching body into one last bold stance, feeling strengthened by our reunion against all odds. We had made it this far. He smiled sadly.

"Fair enough, love. Stay behind me."

As we relinquished more ground the dwarven lines became clear again, holding back the overwhelming tide of blackness. Dain's forces had finally withdrawn fully from their counter-attack, closing the gap in the semi-circle of dwarves. Behind us, the walls of Erebor rose up into the heavens, but the safety of its keep still lay a long way off. A mad dash to the mountain would certainly mean heavy losses, and so it seemed we were in for a long, slow, tactful retreat.

"Never thought I'd see a human lass on the field," Dain remarked with a nod towards me as he lined up next to Bofur. "Can't say much for her trainin' tho, found her on her arse surrounded by the vermin not two moments ago."

"Funny, I found her in the exact same situation." Bofur replied teasingly, which earned him a cuff to the shoulder.

"Clearly I'm doing something right, seeing as Dwarves with big hammers keep going out of their way to save me." I rebuked, to which Dain laughed and leaned forward to look critically at Bofur's weapon.

"Oh come now, I'd hardly call that wee little thing a 'big' hammer. More for pounding nails, I'd say."

Bofur opened his mouth to reply, but I beat him to the punch, laying a hand more gently on his shoulder this time. "Come now, we all know it's not about the size of the hammer - it's how you use it."

Dain laughed uproariously as he lifted his sizeable weapon and positioned himself at the ready. "Right then!" he shouted at Bofur with a grin, "Let's see how well you use that wee hammer then, shall we?"

The orcs gave them no more time to banter. Having reformed their lines once more, they charged the now much diminished dwarven shield wall. Before me, Bofur and Dain took the brunt of their assault with gusto, so much so that the few orcs who made it past were in such a sorry state that I had no difficulty finishing them off. All down the line similar skirmishes were taking place, and in time between breaches I was surprised to find some humans, and even a rare elf scattered amidst the dwarves whose shields had been lost during earlier sorties.

I was even more surprised at how few of us remained, and in only a short time I was forced to match Bofur and Dain's pace as they slowly fell back, step after calculated step. At that time I realized what we were doing. Bofur cast a glance over his shoulder in a rare brake between the seemingly infinite enemies, and the look on his face confirmed my fears: we were going to die. There was no hope for us, even should Thorin succeed. We all knew it, and all we could do was make them pay dearly for the last great kingdom of the dwarves, the kingdom I had spent all of my free adult life heading towards.

It was a fitting place to die.


	28. I Am Glad to Have Shared in Your Perils

Bofur had known pain, and fear, many fears indeed - or at least he thought he had - until he met her. The girl he somehow fell in love with. The girl who, through no conscious effort on her part, began to introduce him to true fear.

He almost lost her when he fell prey to the lusty draw of the gold. He remembered both the clarity and the fear hitting him at once, and prayed he could make amends for his mistakes.

When Thorin had pressed a blade against her neck, he had gone cold. It was only Bifur's grip on his arm that held him back from doing something rash. That coldness multiplied tenfold when he himself had sent her away,_ to safety_, only to have hell break lose below. What a fool he was.

He had never hated someone as much as he hated Thorin then; for threatening her, but worse, for holding them back, sitting useless in the mountain as war raged beyond the gates. Truly he shook with a new fear as he waited, not knowing the fate of the one he loved, assuming the worst.

He had not known such a pain in many, many years, and it tore him apart.

How could it have come to this? He had already gone through heartbreak and loss once. It was not supposed to happen again.

The fear that raked his body when he saw her on the battlefield, helpless, and a moment away from being struck down, was nearly overwhelming - and the relief that came when he had gotten to her just in time nearly as so.

He felt physically ill to see her there, covered in the black blood of the enemy and that of her own, trembling with exhaustion. Everything was all wrong. He was supposed to go and find her, keep her safe... but there was nowhere to go, and the battle was far from over.

Even still, there was never a more pungent fear than that of when the bats arrived: when the chaos they created broke the defensive shield wall of the dwarves, when the last resistance was scattered and when one of the foul creatures swooped down and separated them despite their locked hands. He was dragged and thrown amidst a thick group of orc mercenaries, and in the time it took to gain his feet and fight them down, he had no bearings and no idea where she was.

Fear.

Fear beyond measure...

* * *

I painstakingly pushed myself to my knees, shaking stars and darkness from my field of vision. No - just stars after all - the darkness was the onslaught of orcs, the swarming bats, and the desperate plight of our now decimated front line. Not in any immediate danger, I squeezed my eyes shut and caught back the breath that had been forced from my lungs when the terrible winged creature violently wrenched Bofur from my side and into the oblivion that was my new surroundings.

The field of battle had changed immensely in such a short time, since I stood hand in hand with the dwarf I loved, relying on his support to even keep myself afoot after such an extended fight. We had nearly reached the mountain, I remembered, and rose, turning around to face Erebor.

A sardonic smirk twisted the corner of my mouth. Had I stayed, I would have been safe, and Bofur might never have left the mountain to find me.

_Bofur._

I whirled about, eyes dancing in and out of focus trying to find him. The enemy had charged after the bats had swarmed our ranks, and now I couldn't even see a single familiar dwarf nearby. I realized I was all but utterly defenceless and hurriedly cast my gaze to the ground, stooping down to pick up a shield then skittering a few paces to grab a new axe, but they were _heavy_. I knew I would not be able to support them for long, I barely felt capable of supporting my own weight.

I stumbled away from an orc fresh out of combat with a fallen dwarf and looked around wildly for Bofur, ducking away from another bat that veered down amidst the bodies dangerously close by. The noise was growing overwhelming and I shouted Bofur's name in vain.

I hardly had time to heft my defence aloft before an impact jarred my whole frame. Peeking over the rim of the massive shield, I was up against the largest, heftiest, most heavily armoured orc I had yet seen, wielding a lethal serrated metal club. The orc held none of the joy of its smaller counterparts in tormenting me, nor their willingness to draw the encounter out, and so with a savage roar it swung a massive overhead blow towards my general, overall location. I dropped my axe and braced desperately with both arms.

The blow forced me to my down to knees once more, sending pain ricocheting through my entire body.

The power of the next impact caused immense pain in my shoulders; my old injury burning anew and my other shoulder searing with a different sensation that left me screaming.

The final strike tore the shield from my hands and spun me round face first onto the ground once more. I shouted out in pain, my vision blurring over, but still I quickly scrabbled to my knees, holding my one arm close to my chest, and crawled forward as fast as I could, knowing the next blow would crush my body irreparably if I wasn't able to avoid it.

It was then I finally noticed a new sound above the death cries and bat shrieks and the clash of metal on metal. It was familiar, but in my rather distracted state it took me longer to recognize it. I spared a quick glance upwards, squinting and forcing the world back into focus, and then I saw them.

The Eagles.

I grinned despite myself, but the hope was swiftly torn from me when I felt myself being agonizingly pulled back by my hair. I screamed in anguish and reached around to grip the large hand that had grabbed my ponytail, but I was helpless as I was dragged across the ground, feeling my hair being ripped from my scalp in the process.

I heard a large snort behind me; the large orc, no doubt frustrated with my petty attempts to escape him. He pulled me to my feet then roughly untangled his hand from my locks and spun me around, his grip quickly moving to my throat. I tried to pull away, but he began to lift me, his grasp on my neck barely needing to tighten as my own weight began to strangle me as soon as my feet left the ground.

I stared at the creature with hate as I raked my nails as hard as possible into his arm, but he did not flinch, not even when rivulets of dark blood trailed down his grey skin. I thrashed and tried to kick him, but my actions did little to harm him. In fact, a sneer twisted across his features as he realized he did, in fact, enjoy watching his prey suffer and die slowly.

Being unable to breath, my final struggle did not last long and I soon fell still, struggling to intake air, feeling the tightness grow painful in my chest. I cast my eyes beyond the evil face of the orc as sheer panic set in, and it was at that moment I finally saw him again.

Bofur turned with a swing and then stopped abruptly when he saw me, his face draining of colour. I knew he would not get to me this time; he was too far away from me. I forced myself to keep my eyes open, fixed on him, on the one good thing I had known since childhood, as I waited for the death of me. I felt my heartbeat in my ears, and time slowed down. I watched with interest as Bofur began to move, knocking down anything in his path. He would be too late, but I forgave him for that. I owed him so much. I just wish I could tell him...

I was suddenly jarred by an earth-shattering roar of a different nature. I was thrown aside once more, landing roughly as the orc charged to meet a new quarry. I heard the sounds of savagery from where I came to rest, and in fearful confusion I flipped over to look back at whatever new threat I now faced.

A hulking bear stood before me, its snout dripping with dark blood, the orc under its massive clawed paw now in a very sorry, and very dead state. I gasped and tried to move to get up, but my body was now so very battered and my shoulder collapsed under the effort, causing me to hiss in pain and hurt myself further in my jumble to regain my footing.

The bear lumbered slowly forward, its head dipped slightly, soft brown eyes looking out at me intently, and I suddenly knew who it was.

"Beorn?" I uttered in a croaky voice. I finally was able to push myself up and I stepped towards the great beast. I met the bear's gaze, and I saw the man's. I smiled tiredly as my world began to darken. I took another step. Then I collapsed against the bear's thick coat.

* * *

I regained consciousness not long after, awakening with my head in Bofur's lap. He stared down at me with worried, tired eyes as he gently stroked my filthy hair away from my face.

I drew in a sharp breath at the onslaught of pain my body began to feel as I tried to reach my poor, aggrieved arms up to his neck. The concentrated pain, likely akin to hot daggers being thrust into my shoulder, caused me to cradle my arm back against my body with a cry.

"Bofur, my arm." I hissed, almost dazed from the sensation of it.

Bofur frowned and helped me sit up, then gently took hold of my hand, watching my expression as he moved it tentatively. I blanched, the smallest of motions causing spikes of throbbing pain shooting through my whole body.

"It's dislocated." he said softly, biting his lip with worry.

"Can you set it?" I asked breathlessly.

"A healer could do better." he replied, looking around anxiously.

I grabbed his leg with my good hand and squeezed, regaining his attention.

"Bofur, please." I begged, trying to control my breathing as I felt my skin flush with sweat. "Just do it for me now. I cannot bear it."

He looked like he wanted to protest, casting one last look about for somebody - anybody more qualified than him, but finally he nodded as my pleas became desperate. He took hold of my hand and moved my arm down towards him. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out.

His grip on my hand tightened and he placed his other hand on the front of my shoulder to help brace my body. He met my eye and I took a deep breath before nodding. Then he began to pull.

I screamed.

For what seemed like an eternity he held pressure on my arm, the muscles around the injury blazing like wildfire as they stretched, and ached, and then finally I felt the joint grind back into place. I lifted my knees up, leaning forward with a sobbing groan, almost retching, yet already the pain was lessening, or at least changing into something more bearable.

Bofur moved back beside me and pulled me gently against him, his arm cradling my back as I slumped against his chest. We stayed like that until my breathing evened, but soon I was near overcome with exhaustion and was forced to move lest I fall asleep. I pulled away and cast my eyes upwards. The bats were gone; the skies clear save for a few eagles still soaring overhead.

"Is it over?" I asked quietly, looking to Bofur. I swallowed hard, my bruised throat still ached, causing my voice to sound very raucous.

"Aye, almost." he replied with a slight nod. He then leaned his head down and pressed his forehead lightly to mine

"I almost lost you. I have almost lost you more times then I dare count." he said softly. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I will never put you in harm's way again."

I reached a hand up and ran a finger down the side of his face.

"It was not your fault." I whispered. "We both made it."

Though I wanted to, I refrained from kissing him. I knew my face was full of grime; his was too for that matter.

"Help me up." I asked, moving to try and get my legs under me.

"Slowly, love." With his arms firmly under my own pulling my weight I was able to find my feet, but not without a strong wave of dizziness that forced me to double over. I took a few deep breaths, my vision blotting out but gradually clearing, before I straightened up again, heavily supporting myself against Bofur.

I looked around and felt a sense of surrealism descend as I took in the valley, its terrain now vastly different due to the sheer number of bodies that blanketed the ground. The survivors, which seemed so few compared to the vastness of the dead, now slowly picked their way through the wreckage, checking for signs of life amidst the carnage.

Dale was still burning.

"Beorn?" I muttered, looking around for the skin-changer as I remembered my last moments before blacking out.

"I'm not sure." Bofur replied. "He waited until I got to you, but I haven't seen him since."

"Where are the others?" I asked, suddenly panicked, scanning the nearest dwarves in hopes to see someone familiar. I started forward, stumbling somewhat in my haste.

"Easy now. We'll find them." Bofur insisted, slowing me down to barely an amble. "You need a healer." he remarked, shifting his arm to better hold me up.

We began to pick our way towards the ruined city and along route we were waved down and joined by Óin, Nori, and Dain.

"You fought?" Nori asked me incredulously, looking me head to foot with a confused expression.

"No. I'm just having a really bad day." I retorted in my hoarse voice with a slight smirk.

Dain chuckled. "This cherub was on the field almost as long as you sorry lot!" he remarked boisterously. "Needed savin' a few times, mind, but I saw her cut down her fair share." He shot me a quick wink then excused himself to speak to his commanding officer.

"Oh, I _like_ him." I said quietly to Bofur with a small smile as we carried on further into the valley.

Bofur frowned in mock severity.

"What happened to all that 'It's not the size, but how you use it' talk then?" He questioned, frown giving way to a grin.

"Oh, I'm sure he knows how to use it." I teased but then patted his arm. "Nowhere near as well as you though, surely." I added with a small smile.

Overhead, the eagles still circled from time to time, but nowhere near to their full strength. Bofur explained that many were now far afield, hunting down the last remnants of the orcish warband to ensure they did not regroup and return.

As we drew nearer to Dale, we began to pass through more and more groups of survivors, though many were much worse off. We approached one of the larger parties and amidst them we found Dori and Ori. Much to Bofur's delight, we were joined by Bombur and Bifur shortly thereafter.

Bifur caused quite the stir with his returned ability to speak common and everyone was eager to inspect his head wound. He, however, curtly denied them the opportunity to, and I didn't quite blame him, even from my vantage the gaping impression in his skull where the axe had been looked rather off-putting.

I began to go through the list of dwarves we had been reunited with in my head. Ori, Dori, Nori - _check_. Bofur, Bombur and Bifur - check. Óin - _check_.

"What are you doing here?" A gruff voice rasped from behind me, and I checked Gloin off the list as well.

Bofur explained my part in the battle to the others while our small groups reunited, with as much enthusiasm and revelry as we could muster after such a costly victory. I could hardly believe our fortune, when we literally had to step over countless fallen dwarves; here we all were, alive and well, except for...

"Thorin." I said suddenly, stopping in my tracks and causing them all to pause and look back at me. "And the others. Have they returned?"

"Returned?" Dori questioned. "Returned from where?"

"You saw them?" Bofur asked, turning and looking at me intently.

I nodded. "Yes, I ran into him on the field. They were going to charge Ravenhill, to kill Azog..." I cast my eyes to the quiet peak and could not remember hearing the enemy's warhorn being blown since they had left. They must have succeeded in cutting the commanding force down.

"We should go up there. Thorin is probably sitting on Azog's corpse waiting for us now." Gloin commented, taking lead and changing our route.

The others quickly agreed and began towards the base of the hill.

Bofur pulled me to a stop just as I began to follow.

"Hun, you need a healer, you do not look well." Bofur said as kindly as he could. "Let's carry on to Dale; we can meet them later after you've rested."

I hesitated. True, I hurt. _Everywhere_ I hurt. I could feel warm blood travelling down my side and I could barely stand up on my own. My eyes were burning with fatigue and from the sweat and blood and smoke that assaulted them... But still, I wanted to be sure, I _needed_ to know they were all accounted for.

I shook my head.

"I will rest after, I promise." I said defiantly. "Please, let's go see them first."

Bofur eventually nodded and we began to follow the others. Bombur had waited a short distance off, and so we fell into step beside him.

* * *

As we neared the crest of the stairway climbing Ravenhill, despite my last ounces of strength waning away, I hurried forward, putting distance between Bofur and I by merit of my extra height alone. I wanted to see the reunion of the dwarves, to hear Kili's contagious laughter, to witness the last triumphant moments of a journey we had began so long ago. True, I had not been there for the onset, but I was determined to celebrate their success just the same.

I all but dashed across the weather worn flagstones of the hill's fortifications but drew up short of the river's edge, my foolish optimism quickly melting away as I noticed the first signs that something was amiss.

Dwalin and Balin knelt by the body of their King, yet neither tended him. Dwalin's arms clasped those of his brothers', their foreheads touched together... but there was no gladness here.

I felt my body go cold as I took another few steps forward onto the ice, and my mind reeled as I saw the blood welling beneath Thorin's body, setting a flow of crimson down the icy falls for all the world to see.

I struggled to make sense of what should have been a happy occasion. I fell to my knees as my hopeful elation harshly gave way to utter despair.

Thorin Oakenshield was dead.

I felt Bofur sink down beside me, wrapping an arm around my back. I vaguely noticed Bombur kneel down beside us as well before I began to cry.

My sobs, however, caught still in my chest at the sight of movement on the far bank.

The remaining members of the company bore Fili between them. Their movement was slow, reverent, and I knew that Thorin was not the only son of Durin to die that day.

I heard Bofur moan piteously as his arm slipped from my back. He raised his hands to cover his face, slumping forward slightly in grief.

I could barely see through my tears, yet even through my haze of anguish I realized something else was wrong. If Fili had fallen, Kili would not have been easily parted from his brother's body, yet I did not see him. I wiped my eyes and hastily looked around, my fear thickening with each second.

I scrambled to my feet, forgetting all my pains and injuries. I felt a hand gently grab my own and glanced down to see Bofur peering up at me, his cheeks wet with tears.

"Where's Kili?" I asked both him and myself, my voice strong but shaking slightly with worry.

Bofur stood up and looked around as well.

"Where is Kili?" I shouted, stepping forward towards the others whom had just laid Fili next to his uncle. I tried not to glance down at them. I could not accept it. Not yet.

"Where is he?" I demanded, becoming slightly hysterical sounding as I reached forward and grabbed Gloin by the forearm, fixing him with a demanding stare.

"We do not yet know, lass." he said after a moment, casting his eyes to the ground. A shaky breath then caught in his throat, and he lifted a hand up to wipe at his eyes before mumbling "Haven't the heart to look..."

"He could still be alive somewhere." I reasoned quickly. "He could be injured."

I did not waste another moment but took off at a run towards the far bank.

I shouted Kili's name as loud as I could when I reached the base of the tower. I heard nothing in response so I began up the steps as fast as my body would allow. I came to a landing and found my energy failing. I leaned back against the stone wall, my head spinning with dizziness.

"Kili!" I shouted again, my strained voice laced with desperation and breathless exhaustion.

I felt what little hope I had harboured for him begin to disappear, but then I heard a response.

"He's here." It was not Kili's voice, but a woman's.

I forced myself to continue up the steps towards the source. A room full of dead orcs greeted me at the top. I stepped around the edge of the room, avoiding them, and into a corridor which opened out to overlook the whole valley below.

My pace faltered. I took a tentative step, then another, a hand reaching out to the wall for support as I entered the light, and saw my dark fears made real.

Kili.

Tauriel sat beside him, clasping his hand as she cried.

I tried to muffle the keening sob that tried to escape my lips by pressing my hand firmly over my mouth.

Tauriel looked up at me with tortured eyes but she tried to soften her expression, sitting up slightly and beckoning me over with her other hand.

I took a few nervous steps towards them, not wanting to impose if she needed this time with him. I glanced at her worriedly. I did not know elves cried.

"It is alright. Come." she said in a slightly strained but kind voice, moving over slightly and indicating for me to sit next to her. I obeyed, slumping to my knees by Kili's side. I only managed a fleeting look at his face before I succumbed once more to grief. I could not comprehend that I would never again hear his voice; never again see his face light up with his mischievous smile. He was supposed to outlive me... they all were.

"I don't understand." I cried as my body began to shake. I hid my face in my hands as I lamented over the bitter unfairness of war and the loss of my companions.

"He did not suffer long." Tauriel uttered and I tried to control my crying enough to look up at her. "I am sorry. I tried to..." she trailed off, bowing her head so that her long hair hid her stricken face. "I should go, his people are coming." she said quietly after a few moments.

She gracefully got to her feet but I quickly pushed myself up as well and tentatively took her hands before she could leave. We stared at each other, studying each other's tear-streaked, dirty, saddened features.

"Don't apologize... He would not want you to feel guilty. This wasn't your fault." I managed to vocalize, squeezing her hands slightly as more tears escaped my eyes.

She frowned and bowed her head slightly, and after a moment I ignored my better judgement and embraced her. Surprisingly she did not curtly push me away but instead tensed for just a moment in surprise before wrapping her arms around me as well.

"He loved you." I whispered comfortingly but felt another sob course through her body. I squeezed her a little tighter, absentmindedly letting her perfect red hair slide along my fingers.

She began to pull away so I let her go and stepped back, following her gaze towards the corridor's entrance where Bofur, Ori and Nori now stood, ashen faced, as they looked down at their last fallen prince. Tauriel quickly swiped her hand across her cheek and moved to step past me but I touched her arm, halting her departure once more.

"You don't have to go." I encouraged quietly.

"I need to," she replied sadly. She then looked me over and frowned slightly. "Go to my people's healers, they will be tending the wounded in Dale."

I nodded slightly before stepping away from her and walking towards Bofur. He opened his arms to me as I approached and I gladly fell into them. I turned slightly as I leaned into his chest and saw Tauriel kneel back down next to Kili's body and move a strand of hair off his face, her lovely features graced once more with sorrow.

"Come." I mumbled, straightening and grabbing Bofur's hand. I reached out and grabbed Nori's arm as well and nodded at Ori to follow into the stairwell to give them some privacy while she said goodbye.

After a few moments Tauriel hastily strode past us and down the stairs, not even sparing a backwards glance. I accepted her departure this time, but felt a pang of regret realizing I might not see her again in my lifetime.

Leaning on Bofur we made our way back to Kili's form. Ori kneeled down beside him and openly cried. Nori followed suit, grasping his brother's shoulder but otherwise remaining still, his face seemingly frozen in shock as he looked down at his kinsman.

I laid my head against Bofur's shoulder and rested my eyes for a moment as his arm came to rest around my back.

"Bofur, I'm so tired." I whispered, feeling the entire weight of the past day settle on my shoulders. I needed to rest or else I'd soon be collapsing where I stood.

"I know, love." Bofur responded. "Hold on just a little longer."

I opened my eyes as he roused the others. "Alright lads... let's bring him to the others."

He ensured I was able to stand alone before moving forward. Stooping down he slid his arms under Kili and lifted him up, pulling him close against his chest and adjusting his weight so that he was able to carry him out.

"Ori, help her." Bofur ordered, seeing me sway on my feet slightly. Ori quickly obliged, rushing forward and wrapping an arm through mine. He eased me forward towards the stairs; I could still hear him sniffling.

We went down first while the other carefully followed, Nori helping ensure Bofur did not lose his footing.

As we exited the tower I looked back and saw tears streaming from Bofur's eyes as he carried our fallen friend back to his kin. I hiccupped a sob and clung closer to Ori, returning my gaze to the ground.

When the others noticed our advancement a growling, grief stricken yell rent the air and I looked up to see Dwalin violently punch the ground with both fists before placing his face in his bloodied hands.

"Bugger all! Not him too!" The thickly accented voice of Dain shouted as he got up from Thorin's side and slowly walked towards us, his face crinkled in sadness as he shook his head. "This cannot be!" The large dwarf closed the distance to Bofur and took Kili from his arms, holding the dwarven prince like a sleeping child and turning to move him, placing him gently beside his brother and uncle.

Others were approaching now as well - dwarves, mostly, but among them Gandalf, and Bilbo. As the pair approached, I heard Bilbo asking something in an uncertain, shaky voice. Without turning to look at them, I would not have made out the reply.

"What now? Now, we persuade Dain Ironfoot to be king." Gandalf replied, flashing a half-hearted smile at the hobbit before glancing up to me as he approached. His smile diminished slightly, his sad old eyes lingering on mine for a moment, and then with a gentle touch to my shoulder he had passed and approached the slain.

I watched Bilbo walk up to Bofur, looking every bit as helpless and lost as everyone felt. He raised his hand to his mouth as he glimpsed down at Kili, then turned to Bofur and embraced him.

Bofur clung to the hobbit for a moment before releasing him. He then returned to me to relieve Ori so that he could go grieve with his brothers.

"Let's go to Dale." Bofur insisted quietly, taking the bottom of my arms in his grasp.

I shook my head, a sudden, inexplicable panic rising in my chest. "No. I don't want to go." I pleaded, trying to pull out of his grasp.

Blots began to dance about my vision and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment trying to clear it. I did not want to be whisked away to a healer's tent, to be separated from the others and forgotten. Bofur said something to reassure me, but I could not make out his words. My world was continuing to darken and I felt his grip on my arm tighten.

"Don't make me leave you again." I said weakly, before felt my body give way and I fell, once more, into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.


	29. The Last Goodbye

I tried to fight it.

The sudden onslaught of knowledge. The memories, the images...

The truth.

I tried to fight it.

To force myself back into the darkness, back into the unfeeling, blissfully ignorant state between sleep and unconsciousness. And yet, too long had I lingered there. Like it or not, my body was waking up, and my mind with it.

Tears welled under my eyelids before I even opened them.

Finally I could no longer ignore the thirst in my throat, the pain in my muscles... the _smell_.

"What is that?" I questioned, my voice raw and raspy. The odour was thick in the air and it nearly made me want to gag as it hit the back of my throat.

"They're burning the orcs. Huge piles of them, at the edge of the valley." Bilbo's voice answered from nearby. I opened my eyes and, after blinking them to focus, saw him sitting on a large rock nearby.

"I almost thought for a moment it was me." I said with a terribly weak grin which he politely returned.

"I _am_ filthy though." I began to realize as I became more alert. My heavy brigandine had been removed and I was only in my dress and leggings. The arm I had dislocated was in a sling, tied close against my chest. I tried to slowly push myself up using my other one. Bilbo saw my grimace and rushed to my side, helping to ease me into a sitting position. I looked around, immediately recognizing the entrance hall of Erebor. I had been lying atop a few coats, mine included, on a flat slab of rock, rubble from Smaug's decimation. The area was crowded with dwarves. Their injured lay upon other pieces of stone - though many were just on the ground - as they were being tended to.

I felt terrible and the acrid smoke that was wafting in from the open entranceway was not helping. I vaguely noticed certain areas of my clothing cut away exposing small sets of stitches: one on my free arm, a few on my legs, and a larger mended slash on my side.

"How long have I been here?" I asked, raising a hand to my throbbing head.

"The entire night... it's nearly midday now." Bilbo responded.

"Did you get some sleep?" I asked gently.

He grinned reassuringly but his face fell. "Ah, well no, I did try...but..." He looked away pointedly for a moment then glanced back at me. I nodded sadly in understanding.

"Ah, here comes Bofur." Bilbo noticed, happy for the change of subject. "I'll give you two some privacy." He added as Bofur approached. I looked up to see he was still wearing his stained battle outfit. I knew he hadn't slept, or even washed. He nodded to the hobbit in gratitude, and then looked to me.

I swallowed hard upon seeing the grief and exhaustion so plain across his face. So different he looked, with dull, hopeless eyes and a deep-etched frown. It was so unexpected, and nearly made me lose the composure I was working so hard to maintain. I didn't know what to say to him; anything that came to mind seemed so empty, so rehearsed. There were no words of comfort that would make this better.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak.

"Are you busy?" I asked meekly. He shook his head, stepping closer and lightly picking up my hand.

"Can you - will you help me to my room?"

His expression softened a fraction. "'Course." he replied quietly, moving to help me to my feet.

We walked slowly, in strained silence, towards our old quarters. I wasn't sure they would be ours for much longer - I wasn't quite sure of anything for that matter. I felt somewhat relieved when we reached the quiet privacy of my room. The smell of the burning carcasses had not yet reached this area, and the fresher air helped clear my head.

Bofur released his hold of me to go fetch water, and I drained three large cupfuls before feeling sated. Then we just stood there, the silence slowly becoming oppressive as neither of us knew what to do to help the other. I wanted to rush into his arms, hold him, comfort him, but for some reason he seemed distant and I worried he would refuse the contact.

It wasn't long, however, before the grime on my clothes and skin, and my sticky, matted hair, succeeded in distracting me.

"Please stay, if you can." I said awkwardly before heading towards the bathing room. "I won't be too long." I added before closing the door behind me.

I looked down at the steaming bathing pool, longing to feel its waters wash away the blood and dirt that seemed to plaster my entire body. I reached up and tried to fumble with the knot on my sling, breathing through my nose as I jostled my arm in the process. Fortunately, I was able to work it free, and gingerly pulled the cloth away, letting my arm loose. I sat down on a bench and slipped out of my boots, then began to pull down my leggings, grimacing as they stuck in sections to the dried blood on my legs. I stood up once more and moved to pull off my dress, but yelled out in pain when I forget to limit motion in my one arm, lifting it too high as I attempted to get free of the sleeve. I let my dress fall back down and cradled my arm to my body, biting back a frustrated cry.

I hadn't heard Bofur enter, but when I looked up I saw him slowly coming towards me.

"_I can't_." I said pathetically, on the brink of a total breakdown.

He hushed me comfortingly, placing his hands on my arms and gently turning me so my back faced him.

He then gripped the upper collar of my dress and I heard a tearing noise as he ripped apart the seam down the back and at my waist. He then spun me back to face him and tenderly took my hurt arm, moving it gently as he eased it out of the sleeve. He helped me with the other arm as well and then slid the dress down off my body, my small undergarments with it.

I stood in front of him then, fully naked. As his eyes trailed over the injuries I had acquired, his expression darkened by the second. I looked down at myself. It was almost difficult to tell what was bruising and what could be washed away. Patterns of dried blood criss-crossed my legs, and my wrists and hands were in a very sorry state, my knuckles all but skinned. I couldn't be sure what the bruising at my throat looked like, though I felt it every time I moved my head and my voice was still not quite normal from the ache of it. I glanced up at Bofur, who looked on the verge of tears. I felt suddenly terrible for making him feel even worse.

"Bofur..." I sighed. "Don't worry about me, _please_." I stepped towards him and slowly removed his hat, setting it down next to us on the bench.

"Help me." I whispered when he looked at me in confusion. "I won't be able to wash my hair alone." I added when he made no move to undress. More than anything I just wanted him to relax for a few moments; the hot water would help him.

He eventually nodded and I left him to remove his clothing as I went and gingerly stepped down into pool.

I gasped as I adjusted to the heat. My various cuts and scrapes and stitches protested as I submerged up to my neck, but otherwise the water felt lovely.

Bofur joined me soon after, sliding into the water and closing his eyes as he rested along the side.

I grabbed a clean cloth from a pile close by, wetting it before beginning to wipe my face clean. It took a surprisingly long time before the cloth didn't come away dark when I swiped it across my skin.

I set it aside and then pulled the tie from my hair, sucking in a breath at the pain the simple motion caused and suddenly remembering the abuse it had suffered on the battlefield. I wasn't surprised to see a large amount of long blonde strands come free with the tie. I scowled as I set it outside of the tub, struggling to free the loose hair from my wet hand and hoping I would not have a visible bald spot.

When I was through, I looked up to see Bofur watching me. I stopped scowling, feeling somewhat embarrassed, but then moved towards him.

"Your turn." I said as I stopped close in front of him, my legs bumping against his as I made to kneel on the underwater ledge he was sitting on. He watched me tiredly as I began undoing his braids, trying not to move my one arm too much in the process. I reached around his neck with my more mobile arm and began to loosen the larger braid at the back. Finally all his hair was free, but for a few moments I just continued to trail my fingers through his thick, wavy locks, untangling them further.

Eventually I slid my hand down to his chest, but I did not meet his eye.

His hand then broke the water and came up to rest on my face. He brushed his thumb along my bottom lip and then up against my cheek. I leaned into his touch, my hand coming up to rest on his.

"Bofur, I-" I began softly, but I faltered, still not knowing what to say, still not knowing what was right.

Bofur leaned forward and very softly pressed his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, trying to release some of the worry that was keeping my body painfully tense.

When he pulled away he locked his eyes with mine.

"We'll get through this." he uttered softly, still rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

"Yes. I believe we will." I replied as hopefully as I could muster, placing another small kiss on the side of his mouth before grabbing the bar of shampoo.

I allowed him to wash his hair first while I tried to scrub my body clean. Then, after cautioning him to be gentle, I leaned back into the water as he carefully tended my own greasy tresses. He very gently cleaned the blood from my scalp, and then spent a long while washing the rest of the dark filth from my light hair.

Finally we deemed ourselves clean again and exited the pool. Bofur dried my back for me, then we wrapped ourselves in towels and headed for the bedroom. I saw my nightgown on the bed, where I had tossed it barely over a day previous; it seemed like a lifetime ago. Bofur helped me slip it on, but could find nothing for himself to wear in my rooms, so he secured his towel around his waist, kissed my forehead and told me he'd return in a moment.

I lay back against the pillows waiting for him, trying to ignore the sharp pains and throbbing pains and dull aches that tormented my entire body. It seemed I had been waiting for quite a long time when I finally heard my door. Bofur appeared, still shirtless and barefoot but wearing loose brown pants. He carried a wooden plate laden with food, and a steaming mug.

He handed me the cup when I sat up. "Óin made it for you."

I gratefully took a small sip then set it aside to cool and watched as Bofur sat down, setting the plate on the bed between us. He seemed to have fared relatively well through the battle, especially given that he had not been wearing heavy armour. I realized most of the blood that had covered him before washing had not been his own. His knuckles were skinned like mine, he had a shallow cut on his forehead, mostly hidden by his hair, and besides a bruise growing on his chest, he otherwise appeared unharmed.

We wordlessly ate. I don't think either of us even noticed, nor hardly tasted, what we put into our mouths. We ate mechanically, because our bodies needed it, but there was no pleasure to be gained from food right now; not even the finest course could have tempted us to enjoy it.

When we were through I asked Bofur to bring more water to accompany the bitter medicinal tea, and as I drank it he redid my courting braid, having removed it to thoroughly wash my hair.

"I need to sleep." I admitted when I had finished my mug and began to feel my physical woes begin to lessen. "Can you stay with me?"

"Aye. The lads will find me if they need something." Bofur said, getting up so we could move under the blankets. "I feel I could sleep for days."

"Me too." I agreed as I settled in, my eyelids already drooping as Bofur lay down beside me. We did not try to embrace in any way - I was too sore, and we were both too tired, so I simply placed my fingers gently over his hand and let myself surrender to sleep.

* * *

I don't know how long we slept.

Bofur slept like a rock. I woke up a few times needing to get a drink or empty my bladder, but Bofur never so much as stirred, even when I got up. Eventually, however, my periods of restful sleep grew shorter as I became irritatingly sore and started having livid dreams.

I jerked awake after a particularly bad one, my face wet with tears I had unknowingly cried. At that point I turned and moved closer to Bofur, gripping his arm and curling against him. My mind, tremulous with dark thoughts brought on by my nightmare, would not settle, and I found myself replaying over and over again the image of them, their battered bodies, forever still.

Bofur turned towards me, his sad eyes boring into mine.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. He frowned and shook his head slightly before shifting towards me, placing his lips to my forehead and a comforting hand against my neck.

Bofur gently trailed his fingers along my collar bone, giving me something else to focus on, and I was able to fall back asleep once more.

When I next opened my eyes, Bofur was already awake and moved to get up. He told me to stay put and that he would be back with more food and another herbal infusion for my aches. After he dropped these off to me he left once again, promising to return later but insisting I stay in bed. It wasn't until nightfall when he did come again, his shoulders nearly stooping with weariness or the weight of something else. He undressed and crawled under the covers, taking up my hand and quickly falling asleep.

I was roused out of sleep in the middle of the night by what I thought was a dream, but when I turned my head I saw Bofur sitting with his legs over the bed, his head in his hands.

I sat up and scooted up behind him, placing my good arm round his back and resting my head against his side.

"I was furious with him." he muttered sadly after a few long minutes of silence.

"What?" I asked gently, hardly able to hear him.

"With Thorin." he said, letting his hands fall to his knees but keeping his head bowed. "I was so _mad_ at him. And then everything happened so fast after he finally came around. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to say anything. He died... and my last thoughts of him were ones of anger."

I tensed. This was my fault. That explained his distance, his reluctance to talk to me.

_He blamed me._

I felt suddenly sick at the thought of having brought him so much pain. I forced myself to the floor and kneeled in front of him, not knowing if apologizing was worth anything, but still I had to try.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. "Bofur, I'm so sorry. It's my fault." I leaned against his leg and closed my eyes in weary sadness. "I don't expect you to forgive me." I added quietly.

"Amrâlimê... No." Bofur said gently as he guided me back up me. I settled on his lap as he pulled me close against his chest, his arms circling me comfortingly. "I do _not_ blame you. My thoughts were my own." he soothed. "I would be in a much sorrier state if it were not for you being here now, giving me something to live for."

I reached my arm up and placed my hand against his neck.

"Thorin did not begrudge your anger towards him." I began. "When I spoke with him he said he regretted his actions - though we truly cannot blame him, but still he apologized..."

"I am glad for that." Bofur responded, finding my hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

"He also said... he gives us his blessing." I whispered, sitting up to look at him though my eyes were beginning to water.

Bofur said nothing, but placed his forehead against mine, closing his eyes as his hand slid up my neck and into my hair.

"I am glad for that too." he said huskily before placing a lasting kiss on my lips.

* * *

I woke up the next morning so sore and stiff that I could barely shift positions. I groaned, my limbs feeling as heavy as lead.

Bofur was lying on his stomach, but propped himself up on his elbows to look at me when I began vocalizing my discomfort.

I turned to look at him, my neck straining at the simplest of actions. His dishevelled hair was trailing down over his bare shoulders, his eyes still looking tired and dim. He frowned at me but perked up an eyebrow in question.

"Are you not sore?" I asked, grimacing as I laboriously shifted up on my pillow.

He looked thoughtful for half a moment. "I feel it a bit in the arms." he admitted with a small shrug.

I scoffed loudly. "Well, I feel it a LOT, in every single muscle and joint in my whole entire body." I glared at him, half in genuine bitter envy, but half in jest. "You and your damned dwarven resilience." I muttered darkly.

The sides of his mouth quirked up almost imperceptibly; if it weren't for his moustache emphasizing the movement, I might not have seen it at all. I grinned a little myself, hoping I would not have to wait too long before I saw him genuinely smile again.

Suddenly he sat up and pulled down the blankets. Kneeling towards me he eased his arms under my back and legs.

"What are you doing?" I asked, grimacing slightly as he lifted me up.

"Taking you to the bath." he said simply as he carried me from the room.

After a long, relaxing soak I felt much less stiff, though my muscles still protested against any quick or extreme motions. Bofur retreated for a while after dressing and returned with fresh buns with fruit spread, with Óin himself in tow.

Óin wished to inspect my stitches for signs of infection, and so did not seem to mind that I was dressed only in my short nightgown - nor did I by that point.

"Lass, you took quite a beating out there." he said as I sat down in front of him and he knelt down to look over my legs. He tutted at my large bruises, which were beginning to transform from dark purple to a sickly greyish-yellow colour that almost looked worse, though they felt slightly better. He leaned down closer to look at a particularly garish one above my knee, lightly running his thumb over it.

"She'll be fine, laddie." Óin said, noticing Bofur worriedly staring down at the large mark as well. "Human skin is interesting: as fragile as it is quick to heal."

Óin moved on to the few sets of small stitches, but announced they all appeared to be fine and that he would remove them in a few days time. He set to making me a pot of tea for my maladies and then left us without further preamble.

I tucked into the snack Bofur had brought as my tea steeped.

Bofur wasn't eating, however, and seemed lost in thought. Eventually I placed my hand on his arm, to bring him back to me.

"The funeral is tonight." he began, his voice low and quiet. I nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. He looked up at me, his expression strained. "You won't be allowed to be there." he said, shaking his head slightly in pity before casting his eyes down.

I sat there frozen, my mouth shaped into a small 'o' of surprise. I heard Bofur sigh beside me and squeezed his arm.

"It's alright." I said quickly, though my voice unusually high and pitchy. I cleared my throat and tried again. "It's alright. It's your people's customs..." I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, trying to hide my disappointment. I was being robbed of the chance to say goodbye, to see them, one last time and find closure in their deaths... _Kili,_ I thought sadly. He was a friend to me when I had none. I felt suddenly ill at the thought of never seeing him again, never paying my respects.

"I'm sorry." Bofur whispered, taking my hand in his and gripping it tightly.

I cleared my throat again and quickly swiped my arm over my cheek before sitting up and pulling away from him. "Don't be. There's nothing to be done for it." I said, becoming inanely interested in spreading jam over the last bun. "Can you tell me how long it is?" I asked as I meticulously coated the sides, getting my fingers quite sticky in the process.

"It will go through the night, and then tomorrow the feasting will start - you can join us then. The caravans from the Iron Hills arrived this morning with supplies."

I nodded, and finding my appetite rather diminished, I absentmindedly proffered the bun to Bofur. He looked at it thoughtfully for a moment before grabbing hold of my wrist. He took the bun, but set it back down on the plate, then shifted his grip to my hand and brought it up close to his lips. He glanced at me, the smallest glint returning to his eyes, before placing a finger in his mouth, sucking off the fruit spread I had accidentally coated it with.

"How sweet you are." he said, kissing my hand before moving onto my other fingers as I bit the inside of my cheek and held back a grin. When through, he let my hand down but then leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on my lips.

"I have to go help with preparations, will you be alright here?" he asked, running his fingers through my hair and down along my braid. I nodded in assurance and picked up the last bun to eat as he headed out the door.

After drinking my tea and dressing (which took annoying long given my need for slow, careful movements), I remembered something I wanted to do and headed back into the bathroom. First, I searched around and found some small bristled brushes and a few different varieties of soap. I then grabbed a basin and filled it with hot water and set up a small work station next to the bath. Finally, I walked over and fetched Bofur's blood-stained hat, which had been left sitting on the bench from a few days prior. I cringed at the smell it radiated, and hoped it would even be salvageable. I carefully cleaned it for well over an hour, not wanting to damage the leather or loosen the wool lining. At long last it appeared that I had worked out the stains, and the inside no longer reeked of sweat. I gently towelled it off, soaking up as much moisture from the wool as I could, before setting in to dry in a manner that retained most of its shape. Luckily the flaps were stitched in such a way as to hold themselves up, or else they would have quickly lost that quality upon becoming waterlogged.

Contented with my work, though somewhat worried Bofur would be upset that I messed with it at all, I returned to bed to lay down, my body sore from the stooped position I had been sitting in for so long.

* * *

I didn't quite mean to fall asleep, but I awoke many hours later to the slam of my door and Bofur rushing into my room. I opened my mouth in surprise when I saw him, looking truly regal for the first time since I met him. He wore shiny metal gauntlets, and ornamental mail shone at the opening of a thick black coat, its fabric imbued with subtle patterns of texture. There was a large silver-adorned belt about his waist, and he donned new black boots rimmed in grey fur. His hair hung loose over his shoulders in sleek waves, besides a few small braids ending in bright silver clasps. He had also tended to his moustache, styling it up with the distinct curl he favoured.

"Come with me, quick." he said, stepping forward and pulling me to my feet - though I would have almost preferred _pulling him _back into bed with me.

He took my hand and led me from the room without another word. I was surprised to see Bilbo standing in the corridor, waiting for us as we exited my quarters.

Before we could even exchange a simple 'hello', after not seeing each other for days, Bofur grabbed the hobbit by the upper arm and all but began to drag us along at a breakneck pace.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a few moments of hearing nothing but our footfalls, wincing painfully as my muscles reminded me of their sorrows.

Neither of them answered.

It wasn't long before we left behind the very small portion of Erebor I had been familiar with, heading down previously unlit passages into the depths untouched by Smaug and his filth. Deeper and deeper we travelled, the rooms and hallways around us growing smaller as we descended, as if they were being squished beneath the monolithic weight of the mountain above. The grandeur of dwarven halls began to give way to the rough, unhewn purity of the stone.

Our route had been lit, though sparingly, and I wondered how anyone, even a dwarf could ever hope to find their way back if they should become lost so far from the light of day - and yet, I had faced such darkness, only to be rescued by unexpected kindness. The dwarves, no matter how stubborn, would never abandon one of their own.

We walked for what seemed like forever, and this, combined with a growing tug of claustrophobia, was wearing me out rapidly. I was about to beg Bofur to slow down so I could catch my breath when we reached the end of a long corridor and came unto a large stone door, in front of which stood an armed dwarf from Dain's military.

The dwarf said something in Khuzdul in a loud, commanding voice which Bofur seemed to ignore as he continued forward without replying to the guard, coming to a stop just in front of him.

"Let us pass." Bofur asked, his voice thick with an undercurrent of command.

The guard sighed and shook his head. "I have orders. You may enter, but I cannot permit the others."

"You _will_ permit them," Bofur growled, letting go of his hold on us and stepping forward, forcing the guard back. The guard scowled, raising his weapon in defence as he uttered threateningly in his own tongue.

"Oh, I think you'll find that you're outnumbered." Bofur replied, his tone deadly serious.

I glanced at Bilbo in confusion; surely he didn't expect the guard to actually be intimidated with a hobbit and an injured woman flanking the only other dwarf in the vicinity. Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek and raised his shoulder slightly, clearly not really expecting to get pulled into a fight.

I was about to reach out to Bofur, to tug his sleeve and urge him to back down, when the door began to creak open, a glean of golden light escaping into the darker corridor in which we stood. I heard a familiar gravelly accent utter an unmistakable threat.

"Is there a _problem_ here?" Dwalin asked, pulling the door open further and stepping up alongside the guard. He fixed him with a hard stare while cracking his knuckles, and with his striking ceremonial apparel he cut quite the intimidating figure. Behind him I noticed the others, the rest of the company, beginning to approach the doorway and peering out at us, all of them stately dressed.

The guard had the decency to look slightly contrite.

"The lad is taking his duties a bit too seriously is all." Bofur said, his voice regaining some of the lazy cadence it usually held as he wandered back to us. He then took Bilbo and I by the arm once more, leading us forward a few steps. "Says he won't let them in... They have as much right to say goodbye as any of us." Bofur added, looking to Dwalin somewhat pleadingly.

Dwalin studied us for a moment, and then finally nodded. "Aye. They do." he conceded, his expression saddening. With one last half-hearted glare at the guard, he turned away. His place was taken by a few other members of the company, who approached and glowered at the poor honour guard. Realizing the position he was in, he finally stepped aside.

Bofur took my hand, more gently this time, as we stepped into the room. The door swung shut behind us.

We entered into a great expanse of a chamber that stretched out into the darkness beyond. This cavern felt different, though, from the halls far above us - more natural, and timeless, with cold, still air. The rest of the company had been waiting for us on the far side of the doorway, and sad smiles and nods were exchanged before we made our final descent. The stairway ahead of us wound its way down, lit by a multitude of candles that did little to hold back the oppressive dark.

"It's a wonder Dwalin spoke in your defense..." Bofur whispered as we carefully picked our way down. "He hasn't spoken barely a word since the battle - not even to his brother." It was yet another piece of saddening news, and when I did not reply he fell back into silence

Before long, the stairs opened into rows of seating, and it was from the top of the amphitheatre-like structure I saw them: three figures lying atop separate slabs of carven stone, resting on a massive stone shield, two mournful dwarven statues bearing the heavy burden of their fallen dwarven nobility.

Thorin, Fili, and...

"Kili..." I choked out, then my next breath hitched and I halted. Bofur squeezed my hand in solidarity, and I numbly moved forward once more. At the bottom of the steps, the others had waited. I looked to Bofur in apprehension, but he nodded at me, his expression sad but encouraging, and let go of my hand. Still I did not move and glanced around at the others, unsure, but they all looked at me kindly.

"It's alright lass, it's your turn. Go on ahead." Balin said as he stepped up beside me, taking my arm and guiding me a few paces towards the tunnel that led around through the statue and onto the viewing platform. "Make what peace you can before they are returned to the earth."

He let go of my arm and I tentatively continued forward, placing a hand on the smooth, solid wall of the tunnel to keep me steady as I circled around, and then there I was, standing alone to say goodbye. The muted fragrance of scented candles placed around the edges of the stone beds met my nose first, soon followed by undercurrents of the other scent the candles were trying to mask. To put off the grim purpose of my being here a moment longer, I made my way to the back of the platform, looking down into the deep dark heart of Erebor. In the far wall, I could make out the shape of individual tombs set into the stone, and runic lettering flickering in the firelight as if alive.

It took a moment of courage before I finally turned away and moved to Thorin. He had been cleaned and groomed and dressed to look all the image of the king he was meant to be. His sword was under his arm and a crown sat upon his head. I stepped towards him, clenching my jaw as I studied his features, now and finally at peace. He looked younger. I bowed my head, fighting back tears as I remembered how proud I had been when I knew he no longer despised me, but I felt I had gained his approval too late, so fleeting was my joy. I reached out and touched a lock of his hair. I wish he knew how much it meant to me... his blessing.

I moved on to Fili next, my composure being tested as I forced my eyes to take in the golden prince. It was truly a testament to the unfairness of this world that he was taken as well. He had been nothing but kind and loyal and true. It was a monumental tragedy to the kingdom to lose such a future king, one that may have risen above all his forebears. I stroked the back of his hand, ignoring the solid chill of his flesh, and lamented the fact that he would never know how his willingness to teach me, his unwavering patience and acceptance and talent, had saved my life.

I could not contain myself when I moved next to Kili. I pressed a hand as hard as I could to my mouth to stifle my cries, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet - but also fighting the urge to just scream, to question why he had to die, to curse the makers and demand he be brought back to us. I tried and failed a few times to compose myself. Finally I took a deep breath and laid my hand on his arm. How handsome he looked. I moved up and brushed a hand against his cheek. He had been one of the first to welcome me, to bother getting to know me, even though I wasn't their kind. I would forever miss his dancing eyes, his amusing banter, even his mischief. Most of all I would miss his unconditional acceptance, and the unselfish comfort he had always offered so freely. I leaned down and whispered thank you into his ear, bidding him farewell and placing a small kiss on his cheek before I slumped down on the edge of the stone, crying hard into my arms.

After a moment I was swept up into Bofur's embrace. He guided me away from the plinth then pulled me tight against him, whispering comforts as I cried myself out. Bilbo had been saying his own silent farewell, unbeknownst to me, and after a moment he wandered over to us, his face streaked with tears. Bofur held out an arm, pulling Bilbo into him in a brief but comforting hug then leaving his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided the two of us back through the tunnel to rejoin the company.

We remained for a long while in silence after that as we looked down upon the surreal scene from our vantage on the balcony, each of us drifted deep into our own thoughts. Every now and then there was a sniffle or a sigh, a fist wiping away stray tear - but not a word. My only contact now was the hand that clasped mine, now and again offering a reassuring squeeze for our mutual comfort.

After what could have been minutes, or hours, the far-away noise of the door opening into the silence caused some of us to start from our reveries. A much more humbled dwarven guard descended the stairway, facing off against the glares of a dozen mournful faces. After gaining his composure, he spoke a simple apologetic but urgent sentence in Khuzdul.

"It's time." Bofur translated.

He then ushered Bilbo and I through the others, some of them patting us on the back as we went, others avoiding our gaze, perhaps ashamed at forcing us to part with the company in its darkest hour. As soon as we reached the last landing on the stairwell and exited the hall, the doorway shut behind us, and I felt a chill of finality run down my spine.

So it was that I said my last goodbye to Thorin, Fili and Kili.

I hesitated just outside the door, trying to accept the notion, but my inner turmoil was overcome by a simple change in our environment. When we had initially approached the room, the passageway had been dark, and my thoughts only on what lie ahead. Now, torches were lit, their fires burning so hot that the flames danced an unearthly blue, casting eerie shadows along our path.

"We need to hurry." Bofur stated, his own sadness masked by a sense of haste.

Still, as we moved forward I could not help but look into the narrow openings on either side of the hallway - through which I thought I could now make out rows upon rows of what could only be one thing. I gasped quietly.

"Bofur...are those..."

"This battle has cost us dearly, my love." He stated, and finally I realized the amount of hurt behind his eyes. He mourned not just for his king, but for his entire people and their devastating loss - hundreds upon hundreds slain in a single day. I wished I could ask more, say more, but we were nearing the stairway back to the upper levels.

"Head straight up, I'll find you both tomorrow." Bofur said, nodding towards the steps.

"Thank you." Bilbo said, reaching out and grabbing his hand before turning and starting up the stairs.

Bofur looked to me then, and I quickly stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, hoping to express how much that had truly meant to me. "I love you. I hope you know that." I whispered quietly into his ear before straightening up.

His eyes bore into mine and he reached up to place a hand on my cheek. "I love you too." he said, tugging me down to quickly press his lips against mine.

After that he urged me to hurry, so I turned and climbed the stairs as fast as I could, catching up to Bilbo half-way along. We had barely made up onto a main level, exiting the stairwell to find a place to sit down for a moment, when we noticed a procession of dwarves slowly heading towards the opening we had just flung out of. All were wearing dark cloaks, hoods drawn, some carrying lanterns burning with the same golden flames as the candles below. We watched them with interest as we took a seat on a stone bench nearby. I thought I noticed the red beard of Dain bringing up the rear, but he did not look towards us. Soon they had all disappeared into the stairwell and we were left alone.

"A lot can happen in a week." I mused, sighing sadly.

Bilbo agreed and then we sat, feeling quite at a loss of what to do, the minutes slowly stretching by.

"Gandalf said it's all very secretive." Bilbo said almost apologetically, swinging his legs a bit. "Even _he_ doesn't know much about it. They've never let an outsider attend... Though, even their language is a secret, so I guess it's par for the course." he shrugged, glancing over at me.

I smirked slightly despite myself. "Well I know one word," I told him, "that's progress, I guess."

He grinned and then looked down to his hands, which were clasped on his knees. "Still, nice of Bofur to get us in, to say goodbye." His voice faltered then and I refrained from looking at him, instead giving him a moment to collect himself.

We sat in sad yet companionable silence for a long while. It seemed that for both of us the company of dwarves had become a larger part of our lives than we had first intended - or even thought possible. Though we had not known them for a significant length of time, we had both found true friends in them - something that I, at any rate, had been sorely lacking. And losing friends is a terrible hardship.

We didn't quite know what to do with ourselves.

And so we sat. Waiting. Reflecting. Mourning. Together.

"Ah. There you two are."

I looked up, somewhat startled out of my reverie, to see Gandalf coming up from the way the dwarves had gone. He looked exactly the same as he usually did, for the most part... though, perhaps in his eyes he looked a bit older, more tired. I suspected he, at least, had been allowed to attend part of the ceremony.

"I hear there is to be quite the celebration tomorrow. The dwarves have been hard at work." he said cheerfully, coming to a stop and looking down at us.

Neither of us really responded besides an odd sound of begrudging acknowledgment from Bilbo's throat.

Gandalf tutted, placing his hands on his hips. "Oh come now, you two, surely it isn't all that bad? You're alive after all."

I looked down, a silent tear streaming down my cheek. Bilbo cleared his throat and quickly glanced at me before looking up at the wizard.

"Really, I don't think any of us will quite feel up to celebrating... Actually, I'd very much like to leave. In the morning - if at all possible."

I snapped my head up and looked to the hobbit in disbelief. Gandalf leaned down, placing a hand on the hobbit's shoulder and peering at him questioningly.

"Of course, it might be arranged if you wish it. But are you sure, my dear Bilbo? I believe there are those that would sorely miss your presence during the days of memorial."

Bilbo kept his eyes on Gandalf even though I was shooting daggers at him with my own.

"I need to go home, Gandalf. I've been gone too long." he explained, a slight plea in his voice. "I cannot stay."

Gandalf nodded, straightening up and tucking his fingers in his belt.

"Then it shall be done. I shall start the preparations straight away." He turned on his heel and strode off without a backward glance.

I was now nearly seething.

"You want to leave _now_?" I asked bitingly, trying to steady my breathing. "After everything? _Now_ you want to leave?"

Bilbo said my name softly under his breath and finally turned to look at me, almost recoiling at the anger in my countenance.

"I have to leave." he said, his eyes shining and his voice weakening. "Please try to understand, I cannot bear it, being here for the... celebration, the remembrance. I will not know the Thorin they sing of, the epic tales they will tell of him... the legend. I knew Thorin differently, he was simply... simply my friend - and that's how I wish to remember him."

I felt my anger begin to ebb away and finally I bowed my head in defeat. "I understand." I whispered, feeling deflated. "I just wish it wasn't so."

Bilbo patted my hand somewhat awkwardly and then got up, asking if I wanted to be escorted back up to my quarters as he was heading to his own room. I nodded and got up to follow him, wanting nothing more than to fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

* * *

Bofur gently roused me the next morning by sitting down next to me on the bed and stroking my arm. When I realized I was, indeed, awake, I sat up so abruptly I nearly smoked my head against his. He jerked back in alarm.

"Sorry." I breathed, trying to clear my thoughts. I looked at him. He looked tired, but not as grief-stricken as I might have expected. He had removed the jacket, mail and bracers and now just wore trousers, a simple tunic and had donned his old scarf. "Are you alright?" I asked after a moment, trying to gauge his willingness to talk.

"Yes. I'm alright." he said, offering me a small closed-mouth smile. "You slept in your clothes?" he remarked.

I looked down at my rumpled attire. "Pain in the arse to change without you here to help me undress." I offered by way of explanation, glancing back up at him with a tiny grin.

"Well, I'll be sure not to miss out on that duty again." Bofur replied, the corners of his lips quirking up in a small smirk.

A knock at the door drew our attention, and for a moment I suspected it may be Bilbo, so I moved to get up only to be gently guided back down to sit on the bed.

"Don't you worry, I'll see who it is." Bofur assured me, and then wandered out of the bedroom into the living area. I heard the door open up, a few hushed words being exchanged, and then two sets of footfalls making their way towards my room. Bofur came in first, followed by Balin, who remained in the threshold of the room.

"Gandalf's just told me he is leaving. Our faithful burglar has fulfilled his contract's terms and has decided to head for home..."

Bofur looked startled by this. "He can't leave! Not without saying goodbye!"

"My sentiments exactly." Balin agreed. "The lads all want to meet at the gates in an hour or so, to surprise him. I expect the two of you will be joining us?"

We assured him we would, and with that we were left alone once more.

"Oh, I have something for you." I said, getting up and forcing Bofur to sit and wait. I padded out and into the bathing chambers where I had left his hat. Fortunately it felt completely dry, if just a little stiff, and the leather showed no traces of the black blood that had patterned it after the battle.

I returned to the room, rather coyly holding it out to him.

"I really hope it's alright that I washed it... I should have asked. It was truthfully quite filthy." I explained hurriedly as he took it in his hands and held it up for inspection. I grew nervous when he said nothing, and held my breath, waiting for him to berate me for tampering with such a personal item. He frowned and gave it a sniff, then his face broke into a wide grin.

"My! It's as good as new!" he remarked, stepping forward and embracing me wholly. I sighed and smiled as he nuzzled his head into my neck, pressing a kiss onto my skin.

"Thank you."

* * *

The hobbit, having finished his goodbyes to the dwarves, now met me halfway between Gandalf and the gates of Erebor. We stood facing each other for a moment, unsure what to say, two unexpected participants at the end of such a journey.

"Will your travels take you through Bree?"

"Yes, it will likely be the last stop before home." he replied somewhat wistfully.

I told him to avoid the inn I worked at, and then listed a few of the more reputable establishments in town. "The Inn of the Prancing Pony is the safest, and by far the nicest in town." He thanked me for the tip and then quieted. I wrung my hands together before breaking the silence once more.

"I'm going to miss having someone..." I considered how to describe him in comparison to the dwarves for a moment, "...normal, around." I said with a slight grin.

Bilbo smiled and glanced back over his shoulder towards the company thoughtfully. "You know... I think, in the end, even Thorin realized 'normal' isn't half bad." He paused for a moment, still looking at the dwarves. "He - ah - he told me that if more people valued home over gold, the world would be a merrier place..." His then turned to look back up at me. "...and to make sure you have a home." He considered me speculatively, trying to see past my saddened expression. "You will be happy here, won't you?"

I nodded and smiled, telling him I would, and I cried as much in joy as grief then. Bilbo, ever the gentleman, instinctively fished into the pockets of his coat, frowned slightly at what he found there, then drew out a rather grimy - and altogether too familiar looking - patch of fabric, holding it out.

"Here." he offered as I took it. "It's time this got back to its original owner." He explained as he nodded towards Bofur.

I dried my face and the hobbit continued.

"He promised he would visit - Bofur, I mean - I do hope you will come with him. If you ever tire of dwarves," he looked down and lifted his eyebrows, lowering his voice "...and we both know how tiring they can get - you are welcome at Bag End, any time."

With that final goodbye I saw him frown slightly, and then smile once more as he turned to face the company.

"You are _all_ welcome at any time. Tea is at four. There's plenty of it." He made to leave after the dwarves bowed at him in farewell, but then paused to give one last remark.

"Oh. Don't bother knocking."


	30. A Journey's End, Not a Story's End

It was with heavy hearts that we watched our burglar depart with Gandalf.

The others soon turned back, but Bofur stayed rooted to the spot until they were well out of sight. I stood with him in silence until finally he took my hand and we re-entered the mountain together.

I shivered slightly as we continued back inside. I had noticed it was becoming colder, despite the addition of extra bodies in Erebor itself. Autumn was quickly making way for winter, and the overnight temperatures were beginning to plummet, leaving the vast halls and stone chambers uncomfortably crisp in the mornings. Even wearing thick socks and a heavy coat, my few dresses were too thin and too short, and I found that my extremities always seemed cold.

"Fancy a walk around?" Bofur asked before we began down the usual path back to our rooms.

I nodded and took his arm as he began leading me somewhere new. Again I was suddenly overwhelmed by the expanse of Erebor, it seemed endless, and I wondered if I would ever be able to navigate it on my own.

We began to enter areas that were a bit busier, with dwarves at work erecting scaffolding, rigging up construction cranes, and hauling stone, all of which seemed to be moving out of the mountain.

"What are they doing with it all?" I voiced curiously, watching a cart trundle by hauled by one of the many large goats that now found new purpose after the battle was over.

Bofur replied cheekily. "Let's think... we've got an overabundance of stone. Do we know any place that's desperately in need of repairs before winter?"

"They're rebuilding Dale?"

Bofur nodded. "Aye, not all of it of course. Just patching some of the more functional buildings, that, and the outer walls. Dain has promised them more help though, once the feasts have wrapped up."

I looked around at them curiously, but all the dwarves in the vicinity were dressed similarly and sported rather large beards and moustaches. They were, as far as I could tell, all men. I wanted desperately to see a dwarf woman, but it wasn't until we returned to the main thoroughfare, that I got my wish - much to my chagrin.

As we walked across one of the bridges spanning the cavernous centre of Erebor, we found ourselves blocking the way for a rather large group that had come up from the lower levels. They were rather engrossed in their conversations, all of them speaking quickly in Khuzdul. Bofur and I sidled off to the side, but without guardrails it was a daunting task, slowly trying to make headway against the tide of bodies. We were nearly past them when I caught a look down over the edge, far down into the blackness. I recoiled from the drop, only to collide with one of the last bodies in the group. The dwarf spun to face me, and I knew in that moment it was one of the elusive dwarrowdams.

I remember Bofur had jibed once that dwarf women often got mistaken for men, but looking at the figure in front of me, I was completely at a loss as to how that might occur.

She had facial hair, yes, but it only amounted to soft sideburns trailing down her defined jawline and a small, neatly trimmed patch on her chin. Otherwise almost everything about her simply screamed 'womanly.' She had plump, rosy lips and high, defined cheekbones. Her skin was luminous and clear, and her long auburn hair was expertly styled into a complex array of braiding that pulled it back to showcase her face and decorated ears - which were pierced in numerous places and shining with gems and gold hoops. Her eyes were lined with long, dark eyelashes, and she had also applied liquid charcoal along her eyelids to emphasize their shape, something I had only seen exotic traders do before.

She wore a patterned dress that was very voluminous at the hips but cinched in at the waist, propping up a set of very large breasts - I tried to keep my eyes off her very pronounced cleavage even though it seemed to be on display. Her figure was full and thickset and she was a good head or so shorter than me, but her clothing expertly flaunted her ample bosom and wide hips, creating a pleasing hour-glass figure that was tasteful and sensual at the same time.

Her sharp eyes quickly travelled up and down my body, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly as she took in my motley outfit. She didn't say anything, however, and carried on with her business without a second look in my direction.

I felt inexplicably uneasy after the encounter. My differences were thrown into stark relief. Compared to these women, I was so _plain_, boyish almost. My hair hung in a simple, messy ponytail over my shoulder, I had no jewellery to speak of, no piercings... no _curves_, not even a dress that fit. I couldn't speak their language, I knew none of their customs, and I was suddenly feeling very threatened. If I was someday pitted against a dwarrowdam for Bofur's affections, what did I truly have to offer to keep him interested in me, especially when my years were so limited?

"Everything is going to begin at sundown." Bofur explained idly as we passed by a few dwarves carrying massive barrels over their heads. He seemed oblivious to the self-image crisis that I was now experiencing within my own mind. "Dain will make a speech before the feast begins and then there'll be songs and drinks and tales, all in Thorin's honour." he continued as I kept a sharp eye out for more women to compare myself to.

"Bofur, I can't go tonight, not like this." I said when we came to a rather secluded area, pulling him to a stop and looking down at my unusual short dress combination with new disdain. "I hate to complain about something so trivial, but I think I'm actually offending people."

He sucked on his cheek and looked at me thoughtfully. "Don't worry about them; they're all just a tad traditional."

I shook my head. "I don't want to stand out even more." I insisted. "Plus... I'm cold in this." I admitted finally.

Bofur's gaze softened and he grabbed my hands in his. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you that." He mused, rubbing warmth back into my cold fingertips. "We don't feel the chill like you would. Here, take my coat."

I smiled, but quickly stopped him. "No, I'm alright for now." I said. "I look ridiculous enough since everything I'm wearing is terribly fitted - your jacket would just add to it. Do you think a seamstress has arrived yet?"

"Let's find out." Bofur quipped optimistically, keeping hold of my hand and pulling me along.

As we ventured further into the mountain, I couldn't help but notice a change in the demographics of the dwarves we were passing. At first many had been soldiers and working class dwarves, but now we were passing more and more of the clearly upper class. One thing they all had in common though; they all looked at us - at me, and while some were curious, others were scathing.

Finally, nearing the very heart of the mountain, I looked up to see us veering towards Dain himself. He had a scroll in hand and seemed deep in discussion with a regally dressed dwarrowdam whose chestnut hair was braided intricately around her ears but fell in lush curls down to her mid-back.

"Oh, we don't have to bother him about it." I said quickly, trying to stall our motion. "He's _busy_, Bofur."

"Nonsense." Bofur replied cheerfully.

Before I could free myself from his grip we had come to a stop just in front of the king-to-be. The dwarrowdam glanced up first and her expression turned somewhat sour at being interrupted. She wore a jewelled headdress and had thick, arched eyebrows, one of which was raised speculatively at our presence. Finally Dain looked up and his eyes crinkled in a smile as he passed off the scroll and stepped forward to grip Bofur's hand, greeting him quite enthusiastically before turning to me.

"You've yet to meet my lovely wife: Barís." He said, looking at the dwarrowdam warmly. She had arranged her features into a mask of politeness and slightly dipped her head at the introduction. I was rather unsure how best to respond to her. I reasoned Bofur would have told me if there was any strict greeting customs, so I simply bowed my head, said it was an honour, and hoped that was appropriate enough for the occasion.

"How do you fare, lass?" Dain asked me after his wife had excused herself and walked away to speak with someone else. I couldn't help but watch her go, enviously admiring her curvy figure dressed more elegantly than any other women I'd ever seen.

"She's a bit put-off, truth be told." Bofur answered for me, and I felt my cheeks go warm. "Has nothing in her size to wear to the feasts. Have any seamstresses arrived with your caravans from the Iron Hills?"

Dain shook his head regretfully. "'Fraid not. My soldiers have been busy mending their own seams, you know, poor bastards!" He looked at me critically for a moment, twirling a strand of his red beard around his finger. "But, if it's a dress you be wantin', I know a lass who fancies herself quite the tailoress. She just might be up for a challenge."

He looked over his shoulder, shouted something in Khuzdul and I saw a dwarrowdam stand up from just nearby with an audible huff.

"Oh! There you are." Dain said with a chuckle as she stepped up to him with pursed lips.

I tried not to outright stare at her, but she was quite unique to behold. Her hair was a fiery red, unlike the orange of her father's, and it was as curly as sin. It lacked some of the ornamentation of the others, though it was so voluminous and striking it did not want for character. She also looked quite young, her skin was fair and bright, though across her nose was a small smattering of freckles. I noticed she had little facial hair to speak of; just longer sideburns that appeared well trimmed, but were mostly hidden by the large ringlets of her long hair that fell down along her cheeks whenever she moved her head. She reached a hand up and nonchalantly swiped the invading strands aside.

"May I introduce my daughter, Méra." Dain announced. "She makes all her own gowns, you know, says our old seamstresses lack style." he scoffed and shook head before looking fondly at his daughter. "Don't you, Bumpkin? Hey, this fine woman is in need of a bonnie outfit for the festivities, might you be so kind as to help her?"

"Don't call me _bumpkin_." she sighed irately at her father, her accent was nearly more pronounced than Dain's. She turned her gaze to me and then appraised me with scrutinizing light blue, pursing her pink lips.

"I can make ye a dress." she said suddenly, setting her jaw as if in determination. "Quite easily, in fact. Your measurements look pretty basic."

I blinked a few times, not knowing how to respond, but eventually found my manners.

"I _really_ don't want to trouble you…" I began.

"I like the practice. Let's go then." She turned on her heel and began to stride away.

"She's quite the handful, you know." Dain remarked to Bofur before nodding at me to follow his daughter's lead. "Best get going then, or you'll be losin' her. Go on, she's your burden now - future king's orders." He finished with a broad wink, and a smile that really did seem genuine at the thought of getting his daughter out from under foot for a few hours.

I thanked Dain, and quickly said goodbye to Bofur, then sprinted to catch up to Méra; fortunately her hair made her easy to keep track of through the throngs of others.

She shot me a glance when I was at her side and slowed my pace to match hers.

"So, who are you then?" she asked as we walked, shooting me another suspicious glance before returning her gaze to the route.

"I'm Bofur's…" I hesitated, not knowing what term I would apply to myself; I had his courting braid, but no other explanation of what that really meant. I then realized I had paused too long and had thus simply labelled myself as being _his_, which wasn't _exactly _how I wanted to be known as - nor would I want them thinking that Bofur took up slavery during his travel and now just _owned_ women for his pleasure. I cleared my throat, wondering if I'd ever not feel embarrassed from this point forward. "I mean... well, I travelled with Thorin's company. I'm a friend of theirs."

Méra saved me the trouble of further explanation by interrupting. "My father spoke of ye. He be sayin' that you were in the battle, that you helped even. He told us to try and be welcomin' to ye." She turned to go down a familiar corridor and I remembered I had gone this way once with Nori.

"The other dwarrowdams will be rude, you know, to try and drive you off. We're not used to outsiders, and there hasn't been a human so close to Dwarves in a long time, mind ye. Most dwarves are not fond of humans to begin with, you know, much less humans that steal our men."

Just before passing out of the hallway we crossed paths with one final dwarrowdam, this one with rather long wisps of hair on her cheeks. She curtsied to the pair of us, but her scowl in my direction made it clear the motion was not on my behalf. Méra returned the gesture but then rolled her eyes as soon as the female was gone. Opening the stone door at the end of the hall, she paused and added as a cheerful afterthought "Lucky for ye, I'm not like most dwarves!"

I looked at her with interest as we entered the old seamstress's room. Méra immediately waltzed to the back. Her comfort level made me think she was familiar with the room, or else perhaps all the dwarves, particularly those of high standing, were just more at ease within these halls.

Along one wall rested over a dozen reels of different fabrics. She ran her hand along a few of them then turned to face me, resting her hands on her hips. I noted she wasn't quite as full-figured as her mother, but regardless her own dress was truly beautiful and fit her form perfectly. It had a different neckline than what I'd seen on the others and she had made use of a few different green-hued fabrics and patterns that allowed for a very interesting but pleasing display.

"So. What would you like then?" She asked tartly.

I cast my eyes over the fabrics but felt rather inadequate trying to decide. "I just need a warmer dress that fits, other than that I think I trust your judgement over mine. You're clothes are lovely."

She beamed at the compliment and then clasped her hands together. "Right then. Well if you be needin' it by tonight, let us get started."

She energetically began perusing the options, occasionally pulling one or two rolls out and holding it up against my skin or hair, babbling all the while. She was clearly in her element and I was happy to give her complete control.

"So the pale colours seem to wash you out; I think we should go darker then. Oh, look, here's somethin' nice, and if we use _this_ underneath..."

She bustled forward with a swath of navy blue fabric.

I've not made anythin' for a human lassie before, I'll be needin' your numbers." She moved to the counter and picked up a measuring device. "Strip." She ordered suddenly.

She stared at me defiantly a moment when I hesitated before turning her back with a huff. I began removing my outer clothes. When I was down to just my undergarments she turned around and whistled through her teeth.

"You really were in the battle? Wow, you mark up easily." She admonished. I rubbed my arms self-consciously as she approached.

"You're too skinny, some of your bones be pokin' out, is that normal for humans?" She asked curiously as she began measuring across my shoulders.

"For some. We come in a lot of shapes." I replied, allowing her to move my arms as she needed.

"You want it to about here then?" She asked, squatting down and indicating to my ankle.

I nodded. "And, if you can, I'd like it to fit more closely above my waist, sort of like the dress I had on before, and I don't want the neckline too high..."

"Don't worry! I'm not going to make you an old granny nightgown." She grinned as she measured my waist. "Aye, you be wantin' to look good, but still proper. See, that's why I started making my own wares; didn't like bein' forced into the traditional _boring_ gowns that the elders still seem to fancy."

I smiled, starting to get a sense of her character. She seemed somewhat rebellious, but her family name and reputation only allowed her to exercise her free will in limited ways, such as expression through clothing.

"You're cold?" She asked incredulously as she took the last few measurements. She wasn't writing anything down, and I thought she must have an amazing memory, or else I'd have a very poorly made outfit.

"You're not?" I replied, noticing she didn't wear an overcoat, just her long-sleeved dress.

"No, I find it too warm!" She exclaimed. "And we have to wear all these layers! I've even left a few out of mine, but I'm still cookin'. See, look!" She took a step back and lifted the bottom hem of her gown, showing me the numerous layers of fabrics that made up the voluminous shape of her skirt. "But if you're cold, I can add some layering in yours. Not as much, mind, I don't know if the style would really work well with your shape... But, in fact I think I saw-" She suddenly bustled back towards the fabrics, tossing the measure tape to the floor.

"You can get dressed now!" She called over her shoulder as she pulled some rolls aside and then proclaimed "Aha!" as she lifted one into her arms.

I finished tugging on my old dress just as she came up and held it out for me to feel. I ran my fingers over the fabric. It was a dark grey in colour, and very soft to the touch.

"Can you believe this is wool? Look how thin it is? And it doesn't even make you itch. From a rare breed it is, and it be woven a certain way..." She smiled suddenly and began to unroll it. "I'll make you an underdress of it, and then you'll be complaining you're too hot as well."

I spent the day with her as she cut out shapes, double checked my measurements, and began to sew. She talked endlessly, and drilled me with questions about my journey with the company. I almost didn't think she'd get through one dress, let alone two, but just after midday she had me try on the long wool undergown. She laced it up along the sides of my waist and chest and I was pleasantly surprised at how well it did fit. It was low cut in the front as to not be visible, but it hugged my chest and arms comfortably and I could instantly feel its thermal properties. She did a few last adjustments, shortening the sleeves a bit more; again so it would be hidden underneath what I would wear overtop.

She became more excited as she pulled out a few of the darker, decorative fabrics she was debating over for the main dress.

"Leave me be now. I need to work my magic." She said suddenly, looking up at me from her spot on the floor. "I'll come find ye when I'm done."

I tried to explain where my chambers were located but she waved me off. Before I turned to leave, however, I paused and looked at her gratefully. "I can't thank you enough for this."

She smiled and brushed her hair from her face for about the hundredth time. "Don't be thankin' me 'til I'm done."

* * *

It was nearly dusk when I finally heard a rapping on my door. I had already bathed and brushed my hair to a wavy shine, and was beginning to worry I still wouldn't have something to wear. As soon as I opened my door, a flash of flouncing hair strode past me.

"Hurry, try these on." Méra ordered, flinging the garments over the back of the sofa. "I need to go get ready soon myself."

I quickly pulled on the woollen undergarment and she helped me lace up the sides. Then I stepped into the dress. She had chosen the dark navy fabric which had a slight sheen to it. She helped me adjust the skirt over the underdress and then I pulled it up to put my arms through the sleeves. Méra then spun me and laced up the back, pulling it tight at my waist. It was simple, but lovely in design, flaring out slightly in the sleeves and fitting me exactly where I wanted it to.

"I don't know how you did all this in a day." I said in awe as I looked down at myself, running my hand down the smooth fabric. "How can I repay you?"

She snorted. "Don't worry about it. Your presence here may be enough to break up the droning monotony I usually deal with spending the days sipping tea with the other dwarrowdams." She smiled. "I'll find you when I'm feelin' bored, that'll be payment enough."

She turned to leave and then spun back around. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten. I brought you this. Those bruises just look ghastly with that dress on." She tossed me a small glass container before letting herself out.

I stood in front of the mirror and dabbed my finger into the cosmetic concoction Méra had given me. It was a thick flesh-toned liquid and it did seem to work rather well to hide the bruising on my neck when I blotted a fine layer across my skin.

I heard another knocking at my door which turned out to be Bofur. His eyes twinkled when he saw me and I stood aside to let him in, critically looking over his clothes - unchanged since this morning. I reached up to tug on his scarf with a small pout.

"You're going to make me seem over-dressed." I commented idly, leaving him to come further into the room while I went to continue getting ready. Before I made it to the other room, though, he caught my hips in his hands and murmured into my ear.

"Maybe I'll need to un-dress you then."

I laughed, swatted his hands playfully and pulled away, encouraging him to go sit down while I finished. I made my way into the adjoining room, leaving him behind seated on an armchair.

The mountain was suddenly filled with the noise of a host of horns, followed by the slow steady beat of drums in the deep. I moved to the doorway, to find that Bofur had rose from where he sat and was looking towards the apartment's exit.

"That's our cue, dear. Are you almost ready?"

I was nowhere near to feeling ready, but I nodded before disappearing back into the bathing room, where I frantically began to trying to rearrange my hair, so plain it looked compared to the elaborate styles sported by the few dwarrowdams I had seen. I bit my lip, tucking it behind my ear and then pulling it free in frustration. It never could sit quite right, and in the midst of an adventure it seemed to mean less and less, but now, about to be on display for all the kingdom to see, I felt under a tremendous pressure.

The horns blasted out once again, setting me on edge, but my shaking hands steadied instantly as Bofur stepped up and took hold of them.

"No dwarrowdam has such soft, luminous hair. It's lovely, just as it is. Trust me." he said comfortingly as he let go of my fingers and then skimmed his hand along my neck as he pulled my courting braid over my shoulder.

I took a breath and finally nodded, unsure of what to expect but knowing Bofur would be at my side, giving me support and strength when I needed it.

Erebor was never very quiet since the battle ended, but as we exited my room I became acutely aware that the ever present murmurs of the mountain had escalated. Other company members were exiting their rooms, while Dwalin, Dori and Gloin were already waiting impatiently at the hallway junction. We joined our companions, and when we were all together we joined the procession of dwarven royals that were leading out of the wing of noble apartments and down towards the feast. Bofur told me it was to be held in the Hall of Kings - to celebrate Thorin's life amongst the greatest dwarven lords of all time.

The tremulous noise of a thousand individual conversations grew steadily as we approached, and with it a growing assortment of aromas tantalized my senses. Having eaten such basic rations for so long - ever since leaving Laketown almost eight years ago in fact - my mouth was watering something fierce by the time we reached the hall. It was not the main entrance we had been directed to, though, and I soon understood why.

As the door opened, I saw at first only three tables directly in front of us. Dain and his household sat at the central table, the great dwarf lord chatting amiably with a few dwarves who stood before him. The far table seemed to consist of nobles and commanders, as they wore a mixture of robes and armour, each one more wildly extravagant than the last.

The third table, I realized, was for us. There was Balin, seated just next to the royal family, leaving nine empty seats. I pulled Bofur aside as the rest of the company began to file out.

"We're at the _head table_!" I whispered urgently, a questioning tone in my voice. Why hadn't he told me? All at once my hopes of going relatively unnoticed during the feast vanished.

"You bet your bottom we are." Bofur confirmed, then lifted a hand up to brush his fingers across the side of my face. "There now love, I didn't want you to worry yourself to death. Besides," He added, nodding towards the door. "There are several hundred pent up dwarven soldiers out there, and I want every single one of them to know you're all mine." He reached around me with his other hand and, grasping my bottom, pulled me into him. A mischievous grin lit up his face, and when he kissed me all my fears began to wash away. His confidence was always awfully contagious.

When he pulled away, he left me wanting more, but he held up a finger and waved it.

"Ah ah, no more of that in public. We're officially courting now, you and I. Can't be causing a scandal on our first date, now can we?" With that, he winked, and then turned to beckon me towards the doorway. I mustered up what courage I could and walked into the hall.

To the right, the massive tapestries of the hall of kings, recently repaired, stretched up above me. To my left, a host of dwarves so large that even the great hall we were in seemed to barely contain them all. I hurried to my seat, between Bombur and Bofur, trying my hardest to ignore hundreds of eyes that all felt like they were staring directly, and judgmentally, at me.

Finally, when it seemed the entire hall was full and every dwarf had taken their seat, Dain stood up.

I was not expecting him to begin speaking in Khuzdul, and for a moment felt flummoxed. The dwarves I had known so rarely spoke their own tongue that I had almost forgotten it was their first language. Had they been forced to use Westron just because of mine and Bilbo's presence that whole time? _What an inconvenience_, I thought as I stared pointedly at the grain of wood along the table edge. I was beginning to feel more and more like an unwelcome outsider.

Bofur leaned over and my train of thought was broken as he began to whisper in my ear.

"He's telling them about the last time he saw Thorin, before the battle." he translated quietly. "Thorin met with him before the company gathered at Bilbo's house in the Shire. He had asked Dain to join us in retaking Erebor."

"A few hundred extra dwarves would have made the trip more interesting..." I commented idly, but Bofur shushed me and continued.

"Dain turned him down, and as you well know Thorin went ahead with his plan anyway, despite lacking an army." The king added something in a bit of an aside to his train of thought, and the multitudes laughed.

"Dain said he thought _he_ was the stubborn one in the family. Anyhow, now he's talking about the perils we faced along the road." The king beckoned in our table's general direction. "No doubt Balin told him all that has happened, but you know all that. Oh, there's a good bit about how brave and handsome I am."

I smiled nudged him with my foot under the table. He stifled a laugh, agreeing to take it more seriously - which was good since Dain then grew solemn.

The king, now finished telling of our journey to the mountain, moved on to the confrontation with Smaug, though here I noticed the story began to take a turn from the truth. There was no mention of dragon sickness, no mention of gold lust. Dain focused on what was already known - animosity that had grown from a deal gone bad, generations prior, that had led to the confrontation between Elves and Dwarves. Yet, despite old hatreds, in their darkest hour Elves and Dwarves fought together, side by side, as they had in ages gone by.

"He wants everyone to focus on Thorin's legacy, as an honourable man who struggled and eventually overcame the burdens passed down by his forebears. He made mistakes... aye, Thorin wasn't perfect, but in the end he died more worthy of loyalty than any dwarf I've ever known... a better friend than any humble miner could hope for."

I realized that Bofur had stopped translating. He was speaking as himself again. His eyes shimmered slightly, turned down towards his plate. He stopped talking. Despite a thousand watchful eyes, I reached over then to place my hand on his; not as a lover, but as someone sharing in the intimate depths of loss. He sniffed, then lifted his free hand to wipe his eyes and flashed a grin to recover from the moment.

"And now, he's talking about building a whopping great statue out of gold. With any luck, we won't even need to sacrifice it on an ornery old dragon like we did the last one." He added with a small grin.

Suddenly Dain shouted something which caused the hall to burst out into deep cheering. A procession of dwarves began to enter the hall, all carrying silver platters laden with food. The head tables were tended to first, but it wasn't long before the vast expanses of the many long tabletops were covered with all manner of delectable choices. More cheering ensued when large barrels of ale were next rolled in and lifted into place along one side of the hall.

"Do you want me to dish you up, love?" Bofur asked, indicating towards my plate. I nodded distractedly as I leaned forward, turning to watch Bifur. On the far side of Bombur he was hard at work crafting an absolute mountain of mashed potatoes. He went on to add trees of steamed broccoli and cauliflower, carved tiny entranceways with his spoon, and then in a moment that seemed very cathartic, poured a gigantic spoonful of gravy on top and chuckled as it washed everything away. Despite the rather impromptu removal of the axe shard from his head during the battle, it seemed he had not quite lost all of his eccentricities. I grinned in confusion at his antics and then turned back to see Bofur holding up my plate in front of me. It was too late to stop him so I watched regretfully as he added another excessive scoop of baked beans to an already _heaping_ plate of food.

"There yah are." he said happily, setting the plate down in front of me.

"Thanks." I replied sardonically, unsure of where to even start on the daunting selection. Instead, I picked up a bun and cast my eyes up along the table at my old companions. I noticed Dwalin staring down at his hands, making no move to dish up, his whole body tense.

"How is he? Dwalin?" I asked Bofur quietly as a server came along and filled our tankards.

"Still not talking much. He blames himself." Bofur replied with a frown. "We've all tried to help him, but I reckon he just needs time."

I frowned as well, wishing there was something that could be done to lessen the inner pain he was feeling.

I ate in silence for a while, idly listening to different snatches of conversation in Khuzdul all around me. It was such a halting language, it almost seemed to use all consonants, and sometimes I just heard harsh throaty sounds I'm sure I could never replicate.

"Does it bother you?" I asked, turning to Bofur as I began to pick away at my plate. "Having to speak Common with me all the time?"

"No, not at all." he said good-naturedly. "Most of us are just as comfortable using it. There's still a few holdfasts West of the Shire that keep to the old ways, limiting contact to the outside world. But, for the most part we can't poke our heads out of the ground without running into humans these days, so we're as fluent in Common as we are in Khuzdul and Iglishmek."

"Iglishmek?" I repeated slowly, raising my eyebrows in a question.

"Oh. Just another of our ancient and most secret traditions." He added with a sly grin spreading across his lips. He then lifted his hand and seemed to just be flexing it out. A moment later, a page appeared with a tankard full of ale, which he grasped whilst looking at me pointedly. I looked back dumbfounded at what he was doing, until finally he frowned thoughtfully. He then looked down the table, catching the gaze of the first dwarf who looked his way - Nori. Meanwhile, I was starting to wonder if something was wrong with Bofur's hand, as it was moving again. In fact, Nori seemed to be stretching his hand oddly as well...

I began to put two and two together, and Bofur confirmed it a second later by turning back to me.

"Nori asks if you would be so kind as to pass the salt." He added, eyebrows raised so obviously that this time when he raised his hand up, I got the hint.

"You can talk with your hands?" I whispered excitedly, now rather interested in the idea and casting my gaze towards the tables nearest to us after passing the salt bowl along via Bombur.

"It's more than that, more than just signals for Khuzdul words. Iglishmek is its own language, just as developed and detailed as Westron itself. Very handy in all the noise of a battlefield, mines, smithies, echoey underground caverns... oh, large feasts as well, so really it's no surprise Dwarves perfected such a fine way of communicating. There's even some debate as to which language we developed first."

I smiled, now noticing a few dwarves in my vicinity doing motions with their fingers and hands that I would otherwise have written off as idle stretching or casual emphasis accompanying actual speech, but now I was insanely curious to the depths of the communication that might be occurring all around me.

"You can't teach me though, can you?" I asked regretfully, my face falling.

Bofur looked somewhat embarrassed. "It wouldn't be considered right for you to learn... Usually we don't even speak our languages in front of others, so at least they've made that exception for you."

I nodded, trying to feel privileged that I was even allowed to attend an event such as this, with the dwarves comfortably using their native tongue despite my presence.

"Do you remember," Bofur said suddenly, holding up half a boiled egg on the end of his fork and pointing it at me. "When you got pissy at me at Beorn's for sending us all out at Gandalf's signal?"

"Yes." I said, my gaze darkening. "Though I was _pissy_ for other reasons too, you know."

Bofur ignored my jibe and carried on. "Well, you see, he _was_ signalling, perfectly clearly, in Iglishmek."

I stifled a laugh and shook my head. "He was so put off each time you sent someone out. I'm sure he wasn't _purposely_ beckoning for them. What if he was just nervously wringing his hands about and they just coincidentally formed words in your secret hand language?"

"Well, what if he wasn't? And it was all an act? Whatever the case, you can't be mad. I saw what I saw." Bofur finished cheerfully before finally eating his speared egg-half.

Finally I had eaten to my heart's content, though I had to become rather forceful with Bofur as he kept urging me to have a bit more. Meanwhile I sipped slowly on my ale. It was too strong for my tastes, so my one tankard was lasting me a very long time whereas Bofur had already downed a few.

"Does this go through the night?" I asked Bofur, wondering how late it was.

"No, lass, this will go on for 3 nights and 3 days. Then on the morning of the fifth day, Dain will be crowned the new King."

I gaped at him and he chuckled. "You're not forced to stay the whole time." He assured me with a pat on the hand.

"Is the fourth day just to recover?" I wondered idly, but Bofur tapped the side of his nose with a grin.

"Aye, now you're thinking like a dwarf."

* * *

I left Bofur not long after. My body was still recovering and I felt drained after such a busy day. I expected him to stay through the night so resigned myself to sleeping alone, but once I left the overwhelming busyness of the feast I found that the cool air of the mountain eliminated my feeling of drowsiness. Rather than head directly to bed, I found myself wandering the few halls that had become familiar to me, lost in my thoughts. When I finally registered where my feet had taken me, I stood on one of the balconies overlooking the treasure hoard. My eyes drifted unfocused over the unfathomable wealth, and all I could think was how much the world would be better off without it.

"So _this_ is what so many thought was worth dying for." A deep voice growled from behind me, causing me to jump and whirl about wildly. From a nearby alcove a massive hulking figure rose up and moved towards me, and even after I recognized him I had a hard time regaining my composure with my nerves still fried as they were.

"Beorn." I finally managed to get out, turning to join the shape-changer as he leaned with both hands on the railing of the balcony. After we stared out at the wealth for a moment, I spoke up.

"Thank you for rescuing me..." I offered, after we had stared out at the wealth for a moment in silence. He looked down at me with gravely, and I found myself wondering if he and Bard might not be related in some distant way as they both seemed to favour particularly grim facial expressions.

"Your injuries are healing?" he asked curtly.

I nodded and then gazed at him in contemplative silence for a moment before I spoke up. "Beorn... if you don't mind me asking - what are you still doing here?"

I knew of his dislike for dwarves, and so I was shocked that he had even entered the mountain, let alone stayed thus-far.

"I attended the funeral of Thorin Oakenshield... but that is not why I stayed." He turned his head to look at me, studying me in the light of nearby lanterns.

"Dwarves are perilous by nature, the company you had followed even more so." he began, his eye boring into mine. "I stayed to remind them that you still willingly chose to go with them, pledged your loyalty to them... and what consequences would befall them should that choice bring you any more harm." He looked back away towards the gold. "Now you are safe. I must be going soon."

I was touched by the man's devotion, though I was at a loss as to what I could have done to have earned such a protector in such short a time as I had spent with him. I seemed to have little time to ask, though, as he let go of the railing and turned away from the treasure as if to leave. I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop me while placing his other massive palm on my shoulder.

"You followed your heart after those dwarves where I would have judged them as harshly as orcs once. You see the good in them. I must try as well."

* * *

I slept until nearly midday and decided to go see how Bofur was, hoping I could get some lunch at the same time. I put on my dress and pulled my hair up, twisting it into a quick bun, so that I would look a little different despite wearing the same outfit.

I followed the noise back towards the Hall of Kings. I was a little surprised at the sheer mess. Food and wooden tankards littered the floor, and stacks of dirty plates and trays were haphazardly piled by a surprising load of emptied barrels. The dwarves were no longer organized in their seats, many were standing, crowding in small groups here and there, generally milling about, laughing, betting. The noise level was double that of when I had left last night, but it appeared that there was fresh food laid out along the tables so I decided to stay for a meal at least.

I didn't see Bofur in his seat at the head tables, but some of the others were there so I made my way towards them and took a seat next to Bombur, nodding in greeting at Balin further up the table.

"Good morning, Bombur." I said as I pulled a clean plate towards me and began to pile with some cold cuts. "Do you know where your brother is?"

Bombur had just stuffed a roll in his mouth but he quickly nodded and indicated down the line of tables

I looked down the length of the room and eventually spotted his hat. He was amidst a group that was observing some kind of game involving cups and die. I shrugged to myself, not wanting to interrupt, and began to eat.

As I was helping myself to some sweet pudding, Bofur finally noticed my presence and returned to the table, pulling up the empty chair beside me.

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked as he sat down.

"Don't need to sleep yet, not while we still have ale." He replied with a crooked grin, holding up his half-full tankard.

I frowned, knowing he hadn't slept the night before either. "Well, will you join me tonight?" I asked discreetly.

Bofur's face fell somewhat and he bit his lip. "I can't anymore." He said, setting down his drink. "Our wing isn't that private now. The lads didn't mind o' course, but if anyone else saw me going in and out of your rooms at night..."

I tilted my head. "But if you're courting me-"

"That's just it. Courting involves very strict guidelines. Rules, see? If we're to be taken seriously, which is my hope, then they must be followed."

I nodded, still not quite seeing the point of courting at all since it limited your interactions with each other so severely.

Bofur grabbed a plateful of food and then began telling me that after the coronation, Dain was planning to have a large sum of gold brought forward to Dale. Bilbo had wanted to donate the majority of his burglar earnings to their restoration efforts, he said.

"What of the Arkenstone?" I asked under my breath.

"It lies with Thorin now. Of all the kings of old, he reminded us that we dwarves don't need rings or stones, no matter how precious, to choose a king."

Nori eventually joined us, sidling into the seat next to Bofur and beginning to talk animatedly about some bets he had recently won, and games to take place later.

"Then the singing will begin, I expect." Nori continued as he went over plans for that evening.

Eventually I grew tired of sitting and felt I was holding Bofur back from socializing as freely as he might without keeping me company, so I claimed I was going to rest for a while.

I leaned down to give Bofur a quick kiss before I left, but he turned his head so my lips fell upon his cheek. I scowled and pulled away.

"Rules." He said simply with an apologetic grin.

"Fine. I'll see you later." I snapped.

* * *

Still brooding over Bofur's new chaste attitude, I found my feet carrying me unbidden through the mountain, taking the smaller passages and pathways that kept me away from prying eyes. I knew Bofur was thinking about the big picture, and that how we acted would influence our future together, but here and now, in the short term, I couldn't help but feel like he was judging me, judging us, just as harshly as the rest.

It wasn't until I came to my second, no this was the third dead end, that I realized I was lost. Even with the feast in full swing, passages were being unblocked daily by dwarves spurred by boredom, curiosity, or bets.

"You really shouldn't wander so far if your sense of direction is so poor, you know."

I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling about to see none other than Méra idly munching on an apple while leaning up against one of the nearby pillars. She continued.

"Really, it's a good thing you found the company when you did, otherwise who knows where you might have ended up."

I smiled and sidled up to her. "Dwarves seem to like getting me out of trouble. Confidence boost probably." I shrugged. "So I have to present the opportunity every so often."

She smirked then nodded back in the direction I had come from, pushing herself away from the wall and beginning to walk. I followed, and once I was in tow she began speaking.

"Your dress seems to be holdin' up rather well." She observed without looking back at me. When I inquired about the dress I had seen her wearing on the first night of the feast, she laughed and explained that, as the most desirable up and coming bachelorette in Erebor, she had an image to uphold.

"...and I did just that. Some miserable bugger, lookin' to court me no doubt, came to pay his respects to my parents and I. Just so happens that I 'accidentally' spilled my cherry pastry all over his pretty white cloak. Got a speck or two on myself while I was at it, is all, so mum made me change."

I wondered what her relationship was like with her parents, wondered and tried to remember what it was like to have someone fuss over you out of genuine care. Méra was obviously taking after her father. Would I have taken after mine?

My companion was clueing in to my absence in the conversation - even though conversations with her were seeming to involve more and more of me just making appropriate one word comments at the right times.

"You're in trouble if you can't even focus during _my_ stories. Just wait 'til we get to supper. They'll be starting to sing the dwarven sagas, all in Khuzdul, mind. At least I have the decency to tell my tales in a language you can understand."

I smiled and apologized, but she didn't seem slighted in the least, and continued on.

"And if that's not enough to put you to sleep, there's the Legend of Durin - told in Iglishmek. And if there's not dead _revered_ silence throughout, the lorekeepers start right back at the beginnin'. One year, a few dozen dwarves had coughs after one of our mines caved in, dust in the lungs, and you'd think they'd make an exception, but no, kept the whole of the Iron Hills up for three days before we got through it. Father was one of the worst, kept sneezing, mum looked near about ready to just end his suffering. She still hates his sneezing to this day."

She led me up a few sets of stairs as she continued talking.

"Are we not going to the Hall of Kings?" I asked curiously when she was between subjects.

"Too early. Let's get a spot of air, will help me stay awake later." she explained, directing me along. I felt the breeze before we came to a long veranda. It had some damage but was still mostly intact.

I walked up to the railing, savouring the feel of moving air against my skin. The sun was just beginning to near the western foothills. As we looked out, back towards Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains, I couldn't help but think of all I had gone through. It hardly felt real, to be standing here now when only a few months ago I was indentured and engaged to an awful man.

"Do you miss where you came from?" Méra asked in one of the rare moments when she had no story of her own to tell.

"I came from Laketown." I explained, turning my gaze south to look towards Dale and the Long Lake, barely visible around the curve of the mountain. She turned to me, looking for an explanation as to why I had travelled from Bree, but I cut her off. "I don't miss Bree, or even Laketown now that it's gone. To be honest, it's been a long time since I've had a home worth missing."

"Do you want to live here then?" she asked, pushing her hair to the side in order to peer at me.

I looked at her. "Do you think I'd be _allowed _to live here?"

She grinned and shrugged. "My dad's a pushover, shouldn't be a problem - if you stay on my good side, that is."

We then headed for dinner. Méra waved goodbye to me as she went to sit by her mother and I took my seat next to Bofur. The hall had been tidied, and the dwarves were once again seated. All the sconces had been lit and fresh candles placed at intervals down each table.

After the food had been served, a very large, very aged looking dwarf stood up in front of the head tables.

As we ate he began singing, in Khuzdul of course, his voice was loud and strong despite his white beard, and it filled the hall for all to hear.

I ate politely, slowly, waiting for whatever story he was telling to end. Finally he bowed his head and returned to his seat.

"Next they'll be starting the Legend of Durin." Bofur whispered to me.

"The Legend of Durin?" I repeated, "In your sign language?" Bofur nodded and I remembered Méra's veiled warning that it was usually a very lengthy and very dull tale, even for those who could understand it. "I'm leaving now." I said quickly, ignoring Bofur's raised eyebrows and bipping off before they could begin.

* * *

I was still having nightmares, and after a few failed attempts at sleeping any worthy length of time I sighed and got up. I shivered upon leaving the warmth of the blankets and threw my coat on over my nightgown.

I added a few logs to the dying embers and then paced my room, trying to shake both the chill and unease I felt as I unwillingly recalled aspects of my dreams. It was certainly harder to relax when there was no one nearby to glean comfort from.

I wondered if Bofur was in his room yet or if he would continue to dash the rules and show up at my door at some point. Yet it seemed late. Very late. Surely he would have needed to return for some sleep by this point.

I chewed on a nail and slowly convinced myself that while it was inappropriate for him to stay in my chambers, maybe it wouldn't be considered as bad if I were to willingly visit his. I nodded to myself and left with determination, though not before peeking out my door for a good minute and making sure the coast was clear.

Luckily Bofur's door was unlocked. I quietly let myself in, but the dark, quiet of the place suggested he wasn't back yet after all. I let my eyes adjust to the dim and realized his chambers were very similar to my own in terms of layout. I then carefully picked my way to his fireplace and worked on it until it was lit. I sat for a few moments, but soon reckoned it could be hours before he made an appearance, if he even did at all, so I made my way to his bedroom and let myself fall asleep while I waited.

I awoke with a start when I heard the outer door slamming shut. I sat up, for a moment confused as to where I even was. I smiled after I had cleared my head and lay back down, wanting to surprise Bofur with a warm bed. Yet instead of the sound of footsteps, I heard a loud crash coming from the other room. I jumped and quickly got to my feet. I tiptoed towards the bedroom door, it was still ajar but I kept by the wall, out of sight, listening intently. I heard nothing else and started worrying, so I stepped out, half-expecting to see Bofur fallen over drunk.

He was leaning with his arm up against the fireplace looking down at the flames, a tankard still in hand. It appeared as if he had knocked over a pipe stand, scattering pipes, pipeweed and cleaning implements across the mantle and the floor.

I could barely make out his features but saw him shake his head and heard him exhale hard through his nose. I took a few tentative steps into the room.

Suddenly he stepped back a pace and threw his mug into the fire, the spirits igniting and causing the flames to become momentarily wild.

I gasped and he spun around at the sound, finally registering my presence.

"What are you doing here?" He half shouted, coming towards me.

I hastily stepped back, suddenly unsure. He wasn't himself. I wondered if he was really drunk or just in a different stage of grieving, but whatever the cause he seemed somewhat unpredictable.

"I can go." I stammered quietly as I edged along towards the door. He had stopped the moment I had jerked back and was now watching me with a rather pained expression.

"You shouldn't be here." He said, his voice becoming alarmingly emotionless.

I whispered an apology as I reached back and felt for the door. I was nearly there when he lost what little resolve he had left, his next words pleading.

"Don't leave."

I froze as my hand came to rest on the door handle, but then my fingers fell from it and I took a small step forward. "Bofur, how can I help you? What do you need?" I asked gently, moving another step towards him.

He looked at me a moment, his eyes burning into me.

"I need you." He said before suddenly surging towards me.

He shoved me back, pinning me against the door as his lips crashed into my mine. His mouth tasted of alcohol and he smelled of pipeweed, but I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him close. His hands trailed roughly over my body, grabbing my breasts, hitching my leg up against his side. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. I groaned in pain, my scalp still quite sensitive, but felt a warmth blossom in the pit of my stomach as he moved his mouth to my neck, sucking and biting and trailing rough kisses down to my breasts. I tried to keep pace with his need, opening up to his advancements, helping tug off his tunic and hat then pulling him into me once more. But his strength, paired with this blind desire, was rather painful, my old bruises burning anew as he crushed against me. He slid his hands down to my bottom and then grabbed under my thighs, hiking me off my feet and flush against him.

I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me from the room and all but threw me down onto the bed. I gasped as I hit the mattress but he followed close behind, leaning over me and kissing me deeply as he fumbled with the drawstring of his trousers. I tensed. I knew I wasn't ready for him, and after learning the pleasures to be gained from such an act, I was loath to revert to the more painful variety of coupling I had been subject to in my past.

I had to take over... and I had an idea.

I placed both my hands on Bofur's shoulders and pushed with enough force to get his attention.

"I want to be on top." I whispered before he could so much as frown. He nodded in acquiesce and allowed me to guide him off of me and back against the pillows. I straddled him with his pants still on and locked my eyes on his, pulling my hair over my shoulder before beginning to gyrate my hips, rubbing against the obvious hardness between his legs. His hands gripped my thighs and his dark eyes watched me lustily as I used his body to warm myself up. I revelled in the feeling of power I gained from such a simple yet tantalizing action. I had felt so inadequate lately, and seeing the dwarrowdams had caused my confidence to plummet, but in that moment I knew he wanted _me_, and he wanted me _badly_.

I leaned forward and kissed him, forcing him to kiss me slowly at first, only allowing him access to my mouth for a few moments at a time despite his moans of protest. I grinned and slid down slightly to focus on his neck, moving his hair aside and sucking gently as his squirmed beneath me, his hands sliding down my back. I smiled against his skin and carried on to his chest, placing a few kisses along it before scooting myself down and carrying on lower still. I placed a kiss right at the edge of his pantline on his treasure trail then glanced up at him, smirking slightly at his rather dumbstruck expression. Agonizingly slowly I finished untying his trousers, looking up at him the whole while. His eyes were heavily lidded, his breathing somewhat laboured. I then bit my lip and grabbed the hem on both sides of his hips. I paused for a moment, just for effect and then tugged them down, his manhood finally springing free.

I really had no idea what I was doing, but when I lowered my mouth, gently and experimentally kissing his tip, the deep appreciative sound he made in his chest was all the encouragement I needed to keep going.

His head fell back against the pillow as I ended my gentler licking and kissing and enclosed my lips fully around him, learning that a sucking action was greatly received. His hands tangled in my hair and his moans became more frequent as I grew more confident and eager with my administerings.

Eventually he guided me back up and flipped me onto my back.

I looked at him confused for a moment.

"You'll be the end of me doing that." He said huskily as he divested me of my nightgown. "I thought you were a novice?"

I grinned, and moved to kiss him but then stopped myself. "Oh, do you mind kissing me after-"

"Don't give a damn." Bofur growled before claiming my mouth.

His hand moved down and between my legs, and it wasn't long before he brought his hand back up, showing me his fingers now slick and wet. My eyes widened when he brought a finger to his mouth and sucked it clean.

"How sweet you are." he said, smirking at my shocked expression. He then slid his cheek against mine, brushing his lips against my ear as he whispered to me.

"Stay with me tonight."

* * *

The next day I woke up snuggled against Bofur's side.

Our activities lasted through the remainder of the night so I figured it was well past noon.

I smiled and decided that I didn't want to go back to sleep. I turned and rolled up on top of the still-sleeping dwarf, shifting and pressing my weight down against his body as I tried to wake him with a slow but eager kiss, then I also noticed something of _his_ pressing against my leg.

"How is that possible?" I grinned against the side of his mouth and ground my thigh against his morning wood as he hummed appreciatively. "Thought you'd be all spent up after last night."

He grinned, his arm wrapping around my waist as he suddenly flipped me onto my back.

"Dwarven stamina." He purred against my ear, gently biting the lobe before moving to kiss my lips. "And with you, I'm insatiable." he added.

"But I suppose you'd rather get up and start drinking and feasting and not kissing me in public? Don't let me keep you." I said rather chidingly but with a smile as I ran my fingers down along his shoulders.

He grinned and ran his hand up to my breast. "I think that all can wait.


	31. I Must Follow If I Can

Bofur watched with mixed emotions as Dain was exalted as King Under the Mountain. The tragedy of losing Thorin and his nephews was still on the forefront of his mind, and he could see the sting of it behind the eyes of the company, as stoic as they tried to appear. He squeezed the hand of the woman standing beside him. At least he could enjoy her wonder. He had tried not to grin when her eyes widened at the sight of the King's Hall. His people had exceeded even his expectations in repairing and transforming the space in such a short span of time. Now it was rather magnificent to behold, though his well-trained eyes could still recognize the areas in need of further work. Her excitement, however, was contagious and he loved her appreciative nature. He found it easy to ignore the judgemental stares from some of his own kind as he led her through the crowd, trying to explain certain feats of engineering that would have went into the initial construction and then the ensuing repairs within the great hall.

The Mountain had opened its doors for this event, coronations being one of the few ceremonies that could be viewed by not only dwarf-kind, but also by the humans and elves (if they could be humbled enough to attend) that wished to form alliances with the kingdom after recognizing and pledging fealty to the new king. The public ceremony was held in the common tongue for all to understand, after which the elders and the new king would retreat to acknowledge a private sacred rite which would complete and officiate the crowning.

After the coronation, Bofur noticed his beloved's attention directed towards a group near the back of the hall and looked to see Bard and his family, along with a rather large group from Dale that had ventured forth to witness the event.

"I won't be offended if you abandon me for a while." he said, nudging her side and nodding towards the group of humans. She smiled and promised she wouldn't be long before releasing his hand and weaving her way back towards Bard. He knew she must sorely want for the company of her own people, especially since his weren't always particularly welcoming.

He spent some time conversing with Bifur who had, thankfully, regained some of his cognitive skills after the removal of the broken weapon blade from his skull. Bifur was lucky, a fluke in the battle successfully doing what some of the best dwarven healers dared not. They had been told that moving the fragment at all could further damage his frontal lobe and might leave him in much worse a state; he might have lost his entire range of movement or the ability to understand any speech at all, he might have even lost his life.

It had been difficult for Bofur to watch his cousin, once a calm and dignified dwarf, respected by many for his phenomenal skills crafting extremely intricate toys, lose both his talents and -basically- his mind. In a mere moment he had gone from being exceedingly logical to having maniacal outbursts for no legitimate reason. His hands, once so careful and nimble as to craft the smallest of gears to give life to a watch, or to a children's gift, suddenly had trouble doing up the laces and buttons on his own clothing.

It soon became hard to even remember Bifur as anything but the unpredictably demented, wild dwarf that needed help simply putting on his own boots. Yet every so often Bofur had seem him, quietly admiring a piece of art similar to something he had once been able to craft himself, sometimes even an item of his own making, looking for all the world as nothing more than a normal man saddened by the fact that he no longer had the ability to do what he had loved most.

Remarkably, without the invasive axe tip lodged in his forehead, Bifur had instantly repossessed the ability to speak Westron. Bofur had also begun to notice a slow but steady improvement in his concentration and problem solving skills. He also seemed less prone to wild mood swings and was becoming more like the dwarf he had been before the accident. He might never be entirely the same, but any improvement at all had been thought impossible. Bofur had never minded looking after him with Bombur's help, but he could not deny that a part of him was now relieved that he could spend less time worrying about his cousin.

Besides, he had someone else to take care of now.

Bofur glanced back in her direction. She was speaking with Bard's eldest, a smile on her face as she did so. Bofur grinned. It was nice to see her looking comfortable, socializing with someone she could relate to, someone who didn't scorn her strictly on principle...

Fortunately Dain's daughter, Méra, was proving to be an unexpected friend, and for that he was extremely grateful. The fiery young dwarrowdam had even surprised her with a new dress for this event, more formal than the last, and she looked stunning in it.

Bofur frowned to himself. He wondered if she wished to leave. She had not expressed so, but then, he had not directly asked. Was it fair of him to keep her here when it only suited his best interests? He desperately wished he could make her feel more connected to his world, to help her understand his customs and to make his people realize she could be trusted... that she belonged - but there were so many accursed rules! He could barely teach her translations of simple words without the risk of being brought before the elders. He had yet to talk to Dain to ensure she would even be _able_ to continue living within Erebor... It was a peculiar circumstance. Dwarves did not cohabitate with outsiders. Yet he knew, no matter what might happen or what their future would hold, he would not be parted from her.

If she left, whether be it by her own will, or by the order of the king, he would leave too.

* * *

A few weeks slipped by without much furor, besides a small party of dwarves that had been sent to scout and map the lower levels not returning when they were anticipated to. Bofur told me this wasn't yet too concerning. Erebor's depths were a relative mystery, and most of the architectural layouts from the past had been burnt or simply mildewed away, so it was unclear precisely what tunnels might exist and how deep they might travel. It was most likely that the scouts had found a new passage to explore and couldn't be bothered to return until they had documented its entire length. A search party would be sent out if they didn't re-emerge in a fortnight.

Bofur, after our relatively lengthy and passionate time in bed together before the coronation, vowed to henceforth stick to the strict (and awfully boring) rules of courtship. Despite a few rather unchaste kisses at my door before bed, he now seemed determined to behave. I was tempted to ask Méra more about dwarven courtship, as I wasn't sure what was quite expected of me, nor what a successful courtship even entailed, though it felt like a rather personal subject so I never knew how to bring it up.

As time passed by, my body slowly returned to its original skin tone as my bruising entirely faded. Besides an ache that persisted in my shoulder after a night of sleep, courtesy of Azog's spike paired with the dislocation during battle, I felt my strength return to me. This was not necessarily a good thing, however, as I grew increasingly restless with nothing to do. Bofur was often busy during the days, helping clear more rubble from the interior halls and attending cryptic meetings with Dain and the other company members. Without him to lead me around, I felt very unsure wandering Erebor, so I spent a large amount of time still within my chambers. Thankfully Méra came to whisk me away on occasion to keep her company while she did needlework or dressmaking.

I often wondered if we would be made to vacate our lavish rooms, but so far the issue had not arisen. Dain and his family had moved into the King's Quarters at the heart of the mountain after his coronation. That branch was accessed from behind the throne, and there were adjacent wings for his immediate guard, so no one of greater importance had yet arrived to take our place in the set of royal chambers we had become comfortable in. Bofur explained that most of Erebor was also in flux, with dwarves changing rooms frequently to always be near the area they were set to work in. For now, we were able to stay, though it felt rather lonelier knowing that Fili and Kili's rooms now lie empty. I had to remind myself that I would never again see them, even just in passing in the hall.

* * *

"Is there nothing I can be doing to help?" I complained one afternoon while having tea with Bofur, Balin and Ori. I looked at Balin pleadingly as he raised his white eyebrows at me. "I'm sure there must be some tasks that I would be capable of."

"I told her she should still be resting, recovering." Bofur interjected.

"I'm _recovered_." I said exaggeratedly. "Yet I will surely go mad if I have nothing to keep my days occupied."

"I'll look into it, lass. I'm sure we can set you up with a small project for now." Balin assured.

Fortunately Balin had kept his word and I was able to finally feel productive by helping with some of the smaller intact chambers that sorely needed just a general cleaning; dusting, sweeping and organization. I would accompany a few other dwarves in this task, one of which kept documented notes on each room, marking down anything significant kept within and what the room might need to become fully functional (such as candles, firewood, new linens, etc). The dwarves I worked with seemed to begrudgingly accept my presence, though I would often spend the entire day without having been spoken to at all. They would whisper to each other in Khuzdul and I often saw them communicating silently by gestures. Eventually it didn't bother me as much. At least I now felt like I was earning my keep.

Yet some days I secretly wished to go to Dale, to help their efforts instead, where I could at least talk to people and not feel like the social pariah I was here. It had been good to see some of the townsfolk at the coronation, Bard and the girls, and a few of the woman I had rallied with. They had greeted me with warm smiles and hugs, friendly words, and well-wishes. It made me miss a home I never knew, a home perhaps I wanted. I found myself studying the inner mountain as I worked, the tall dark ceilings, the cold that seeped up through the stone itself, the churlish short people that criticized me with looks under heavy brows and scowls hidden by large beards.

Would anywhere within Erebor ever feel like home? Could it ever be cosy?

Bofur, I thought, would make things cosier.

* * *

"I still don't understand why we can't stay together." I mused aloud, leaning my shoulders back against my door after he had walked me to my rooms after dinner one day.

Bofur smiled kindly and rubbed his hands up my arms.

"I'm courting you publicly now," he told me once again, "there are-"

"Rules. I know." I said with a huff. "It's not proper for you to be in my rooms after dark." I recited, but then lowered my voice and reached out to grab the collar of his shirt. "Can I come to your rooms then?"

Bofur chuckled. "What, and besmirch _my_ honour?" he taunted with a sneaky grin.

"I wouldn't dream of it." I smiled back. "Or maybe I would." I teased, but then became more serious. "Would you let me come over just for a while, only to talk?" I asked hesitantly. "It's not so late yet, and I haven't seen much of you lately."

Bofur thought for a moment and then nodded. "Aye, how can I say no to such a pretty face?"

I smiled as he gently took my hand and led me to his door.

"No funny business though." he added with a small grin as he opened it for me.

"I promise." I said airily as I swept past him and made myself comfortable on the soft fur rug as he relit the fire. He then sat appropriately on the adjacent chair rather than beside me. I tried not to pout at him.

"What have you been busy with lately?" I asked conversationally after taking a few minutes to warm up.

"Oh you know, dwarf stuff." Bofur replied most unhelpfully.

I scowled playfully. "Do you really have to be so mysterious all the time? It's off-putting."

"Off-putting!" Bofur repeated in mock offence. "And here I thought our mysterious nature was more of a turn-on." he said with a smirk.

I scoffed. "I'd much rather you weren't always so cryptic. I still feel as if I don't know anything about you."

Bofur studied me a moment, his gaze softening. "What would you like to know?" he asked.

I looked at him and blinked. "Everything." I responded simply.

Bofur smiled slightly. "Ask me then. Whatever you like. I'll answer if I can."

I was caught off my guard by his willingness to open up and had to think a moment to form a question.

"Are your parent's alive?" I asked after chewing my lip a minute.

Bofur leaned back. "My dad died in the Battle of Azanulbizar, my mother had faded after losing him, but only just passed a few years ago."

"I'm sorry for that." I said gently.

"They were good dwarves, simple folk really." he continued with a nod. "They found joy in the everyday things; a good meal, a good joke, a good mug of beer before bed - a good partner to share that bed with."

"They sound like you." I said with a small smile.

After a few moments of silence I realized he was waiting for another question and there was one pressing in my mind, but I was nervous to ask it.

"Can I - _May_ I ask..." I hesitated, fumbling on my words, but Bofur inclined his chin slightly, his expression calm. I took a steadying breath. "Well, I'd like to know if you have any children..."

I looked down quickly, embarrassed at my own audacity to ask such a thing. Yet I did truly feel as if I needed to know. For if he did, his children would be older than I, given that he once alluded to the fact that his wife died before I was even born, and that would certainly be something I would need to come to terms with.

Bofur was silent for a long, terse moment and finally I peeked up at him. He caught my eye and thankfully did not appear angry, just somewhat solemn.

"No." he said finally. "We- ah- tried for a while, but did not have any before-"

I nodded quickly so he did not have to explain further. We were both quiet for a few minutes and I looked to the fireplace, my thoughts getting ahead of themselves.

"You did want children though." I ventured quietly, glancing at him sadly.

"Who would not?" he replied with a little shrug.

I quickly returned my gaze to the flames, biting my lip quite hard. "It's just," I began after another somewhat terse moment, "If you stay with me - well, we couldn't..." I trailed off.

I heard him get up and soon felt his arms wrap around from behind me. "I know." he said gently, nuzzling his face against the side of my neck.

"I would not have you give up something so important because of me." I commented quietly.

"It was another life... What I want now is you." he said firmly, his arms tightening for a moment around my waist. "But you would be giving that up as well. It is more than I should ask of you. I want you to be sure."

In truth I had never quite thought about having children in recent years. As I transgressed into adulthood slowly, torturously, at the Inn, I had given up all hope of even a semblance of a normal life. Once, children would likely have been naught but a duty, part of a contractual obligation if I had been married to the Innkeeper, or even to someone of Laketown. Thinking about it now, I felt that I would probably have liked to have Bofur's children, as my love for him was only growing... but it was not possible, our bloodlines couldn't mix. It would be a sacrifice for both of us, but I knew I would rather spend my days with him - even if that meant_ just_ him - rather than move on and settle for anything less than the love of my life.

"I'm sure if you're sure." I said finally, sitting up and turning to look into his eyes. I reached a hand up and placed it on the side of his face, trailing my fingers down to his chin and guiding him to kiss me.

"I'm sure." Bofur confirmed, before placing his lips on mine.

"What else would you like to know?" he asked breathlessly, pulling away before we forgot ourselves, but staying seated close to me on the floor.

"I don't want to push my luck." I said with a small frown, but he urged me on. "I am only wondering because dwarves, you told me, don't fall to illness or disease..."

"Aye..." Bofur said slowly, cautiously.

I looked at him apologetically. "How did she die?" I whispered.

I heard him sigh just slightly and he briefly looked away but still he answered as he said he would. "She went on a voyage with her sister; a simple voyage to the south to visit kin, a cousin with child. They took the quickest route, along the River Luhn which rushes down to the sea, and camped on a rocky outcropping. Dwarves know the strength of stone - the cliff, the cliff was sound." He assured, though seemed to be talking more to himself at that point. After a pause, he continued stone-faced. "But the damage done to that region long ago was so great, that even still the waters seek to claim more dwarven land." His composure began to falter at this point. "The cliff... gave way in the night... She drowned."

I suddenly remembered all the times Bofur had reacted adversely to water. Now, of course, it all made sense and I felt horrendous for my previous reactions; I had scorned him for not wishing to swim at the river and became frustrated at him for being overbearing when I wanted to go in with my shoulder still healing. I had also sloughed off his anger when he had witnessed my near-miss trying to help free Balin's barrel while escaping Mirkwood, I didn't understand at the time, the trauma he must have felt then.

"Bofur." I whispered in shock. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that happened." I said, laying my hand over his. I shook my head slightly. "And I feel like a ripe idiot now for always being so thoughtless around the water around you."

"You couldn't have known." Bofur replied gently, lacing his fingers with mine. "I should have had more faith in your abilities."

I rubbed my thumb along the top of his knuckles as we both fell to silence one more. There were many more questions I wished to ask. He had lived an entire lifetime and I knew nothing of it. Yet after he had revealed such personal and sensitive details, I felt that further prying could wait for another time.

"I would ask you something now." Bofur said eventually.

"Anything." I replied encouragingly, I surely owed him one.

"Are you unhappy here?" he asked, his eyes boring into mine. "Do you want to leave?"

I began to immediately object but he held up his hand and cut me off.

"I'm not trying to push you away." he clarified. "I just want you to be honest. If you _are_ unhappy, there are other options. We could try Dale... or, well, wherever you like."

I frowned while in thought for a moment. He had said _'we,'_ so presumably if I wanted to settle in Dale he would come with me. I hadn't expected that to be an option. We wouldn't be far from Erebor and his people, and he likely wouldn't experience the same ostracism I felt here. Humans were rather open in their dealings with the other races. They had no secret customs to protect and no unifying set of physical traits - I had seen human men and women near as short as dwarves and as tall as elves, men sported both beards and shaven faces. It was definitely a much more forgiving culture. The people of Dale would likely welcome having a dwarf on site to help with the ongoing structural repairs.

Yet I could not forget that we had fought and bled and died for Erebor. Bofur had lost friends he had known an age for this mountain. It was a very hard-won prize. I did not know if he would be truly willing to give it up, after all that he had been through to get here.

"I'm not unhappy." I said carefully. "And I don't want to leave. Not yet anyway... It's not always easy with you dwarves." I smiled slightly and tugged on his hand. "But I would stay - if I can."

Bofur smiled warmly, pulling me in so that I could lean my back against his chest as he hugged his arms around me.

We asked each other nothing more that night and simply enjoyed the warmth of the fire and each other's company before I was escorted to my rooms at an appropriate hour. With one final kiss (this one leaning towards the chaste side), I was sent to face another night alone while cursing this blasted courting.

* * *

Another week slipped by and I helped complete the cleaning of a larger communal sleeping area. Two dozen beds lined the wall of a circular chamber centred by a fire-pit. Some of the beds sported rotten posts and none of the linen was salvageable. Yet after a few days work, and with the latest shipment of supplies from the Iron Hills, my team and I were able to make the room fully functional once more, even adding a few luxuries such as new floor rugs and water basins.

I noticed that more dwarven women seemed to have arrived and I could not help but watch them out of the corner of my eye whenever I found myself in their presence. It began to irk me that they _always_ seemed dressed to impress. They were the very height of fashion. Never so much as a hair out of place, certainly never sweaty or dishevelled or dirty from a day's work. Yet here I was, my long hair twisted back in a messy bun, my face sticky with sweat and smudged with dust, a very stained and wrinkled apron tied over my old tunic and leggings - the knees of which were beginning to tear. With only two long dresses to my name, both too nice to clean in, and my assortment of short dresses that would be wildly inconvenient since I was often on my hands and knees working, I had taken to wearing my old travel clothing which did little to help my image. The looks of disdain I received were not lost on me, even though I often tried to avoid the dwarrowdams where I could.

"I did not know we were taking on human servants." I heard one of them remark, loudly and in the common tongue as I trundled past a small group of them while carrying a large bucket of soapy water. I felt my cheeks begin to burn and avoided looking up at them at all costs, trying to pretend I didn't hear.

Sharp laughter broke out. "That's the girl Bofur is courting, didn't you know?"

I set my jaw as I heard their noises of astonishment.

"I could have sworn that was a human lad."

More laughter.

"Why is she wearing trousers?"

I desperately wished the bucket wasn't so heavy, forcing me to walk slowly, but I had already sloshed some water down the side of my leg which was definitely not helping the situation.

"Well, who is she?" one of them asked.

"Just a commoner from Laketown I hear." There was a few _tuts_ and scoffs at this.

"I know! It's quite the scandal. Just unheard of!"

"She's certainly not much to look at."

"Now, now, be nice."

I tried, and failed, to ignore the following insults and general comments of disapproval as I rounded a corner and hurried out of their line of sight.

"Well, I don't expect she can even read!" one announced loudly before I was fully out of earshot.

I felt my heart pounding in my chest as anger coursed through me. Of course I could read! My father had taught me when I was little. I fought the urge to abandon my work and retreat to my rooms to nurse my wounded pride, but instead I took my frustration out on the tasks I was assigned, finishing them quickly due to my built-up angry energy but making mistakes since I could think of nothing else but my humiliation.

By the time Méra (bored as always) found me, these mistakes had worked me into a frenzy, and the room was in nearly worse shape than it started in. I faintly registered that my co-workers had long since given me run of the area, and were now milling about in the hallway waiting for my rage to pass. I heard one of them grumble a word in Khuzdul, and then Méra popped cautiously into view in the doorframe.

"Woah..." She remarked as I stood panting in the centre of the room, the now half-filled bucket in one hand still sloshing about while I clasped a cleaning rag white knuckled in the other. When she advanced, I dropped my bucket and cloth right where they were and made for the door, grabbing the bewildered dwarrowdam in tow as I went. Behind me, the dwarves were silent in their own wonder at the rage of a woman scorned.

"I need a new dress. Now." I finally stated once we had put some distance into one of the less used regions of Erebor and I had caught a bit of my breath back.

"Ehm...why?" She asked innocently, and I finally freed her from my grip. I whirled to face her.

"It doesn't matter." I urged. "It just needs to be better than all the rest!"

She placed a steadying hand on my arm. "Easy on there. What you need to do is cool down first… which actually works out perfectly. Come on, I've got surprise for you!" With that, she now took me in tow and we were off again, further into the empty depths of the mountain.

I allowed myself to be led, all the while nursing my hurt, probing at my pain like a scab and prolonging the healing process. Part of me, a part I didn't quite understand, seemed to want to suffer, to feel estranged here, to have a reason to long for a return to a human life.

I was so entranced with my own thoughts that it took my guide nudging me in the ribs to rouse me. We had entered a passage not yet tackled by a team of caretakers. At the end, there was an opening onto the mountainside itself. We exited out onto a narrow ledge, and I was forced to lift my hand to protect my eyes. When they finally adjusted, I gasped despite myself at the view of the valley spreading out in all directions around us. Méra shimmied along the ledge, calling out to me to hurry up lest we be seen. At the end of the ledge, she spun and began to climb down a rope ladder fastened into the stone.

"Is this safe?" I called out, shivering as the cold winds cut through my thin layers of clothing. Méra paused to look up and reply.

"The old Western guardroom is below us. It's been blocked from the inside, unless you fancy a hundred foot free-climb up from below, this is the only way in. Come along now!"

With that she continued a few more rungs and disappeared back into the mountain. I followed, and when I reached the opening I realized it was a window, rather than an actual door. I climbed in, and the guardroom spread out before me.

The room housed weapons and armour, like the royal armoury where the company had geared up before the battle. That was where the comparison ended. Where those ornate suits were reverently arranged and cared for, what remained here was scattered and unkempt, the legacy of Smaug's attack. In the centre of the room, a dwarf was busily inspecting one of the weapons.

"That's Ganin, my instructor." She said somewhat proudly as she retrieved a strip of leather and attempted to tie back her long, wild hair.

"Instructor?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You might be surprised to hear that our women have been known to become warriors," Méra began, "but tis a rare thing, often young widows will turn down that path, and it's not an easy one at that. Ganin was one of the trainers of the female warrior caste. He's been out of a job a long while, mind. When Erebor fell, seems like dwarrowdams were in even greater demand, and so parents made doubly sure their daughters would never be without a match." She sauntered over to the weapon rack and picked up two short swords. "So these days, this sort of thing is frowned upon, you know. My father would never allow it… but I _am_ going to learn to fight."

I watched as Méra twirled her swords in a flourish that somewhat painfully reminded me of Fili, she had clearly practised prior to this meeting.

"Why?" I questioned, wandering up to look over the weapons as well.

Méra looked at me. "Why what?"

"Why the interest to fight?" I asked. "Surely a new princess will never see battle."

Méra scowled. "Don't call me princess." She sighed. "I would love to prove myself on the battlefield, like my father's done countless times. I hate sitting around on my arse all day; needlework, lessons, gossip. It's so _dull! _And what makes it worse is them forcing me to meet these pompous, eligible lordly bachelors, desperately hoping I will pledge myself to one of them so that they can be marryin' me off. As if! They're all just wretched. I envy my brothers... It ain't fair, it really ain't."

I smiled ruefully. It seemed we were both misfits in this structured rigid society.

"But you were in the battle, what was it like?" Méra then asked excitedly. "Did you do much fightin'? Did you kill anythin'?"

I nodded, trying to remember, I hadn't really thought back on the details, truthfully I didn't quite want to. "It was scary." I admitted. "It was just chaos, and death at every turn. You don't even really notice... that people are literally dying right beside you... because you can't, there isn't time to notice much at all beyond what's coming at you, unless you want to join the dead as well… Your father saved me at one point."

Méra let her arms drop, her swords hanging loose in her grip.

"Do you not want to practice then?" She asked, noting my rather forlorn mood.

I shook myself out of my gloomy reverie before my thoughts turned darker. It would be nice to learn, properly, even if it had no purpose for me save for the comradery and general fitness. It would be kind of fun actually, secretly helping Méra break out of tradition and learning such an unexpected skillset. I picked up one of the thinner swords and smiled.

"Next time bring me a proper longsword and I'm in." I said with a grin.

Méra lifted her weapons with an excited yell and beckoned to Ganin.

"Speak common tongue please, so that my friend here can understand." Méra ordered lightly.

Rather than the fast paced crash course I faced when last I had trained, these exercises were more about rhythm and precise control. Méra's mentor seemed in age and attitude much like Balin, though was physically more like Dwalin. He would demonstrate an action, and then Méra and I would mirror the action until we became comfortable with the motions. It often took me several tries to even get the movement correct, and despite watching Méra repeat them extremely slowly for my sake, our tutor would often still come to correct me.

By the time we finished our tenth set, several hours had passed. My whole body ached, and several of the actions, when done in slow motion, seemed to work out muscles I had never even used before. The added weight of a sword not suited to me also added to my fatigue.

The whole process had been strangely meditative.

"Now about this dress you be keen for," Méra said with a satisfied smile as she set her swords down, "what did you have in mind?"

I wiped my forehead on the back of my hand and figured I surely looked even worse after sweating through these exercises as well.

"I want…" I began, chewing on my bottom lip a moment. "Well, I want something more… _dwarven_."

Méra shot me a glance, her bright eyes scrutinizing me. I met her gaze and shrugged, trying to hide the hurt I was feeling from the other dwarrowdams harsh judgement.

"I'm tired of standing out so much." I sighed.

Méra nodded slowly but frowned. "I can surely try. Though it'll take some time, and you may not be happy with how it looks on you. And…" she looked off, clearly embarrassed about something.

"What is it?" I urged.

"Well, if you're wantin' it to look right, up to date an' all, I'll be needin' better fabric. A cartload of new rolls just arrived, but they're not _mine_, see, I'd have to buy them, my father's a stickler like that, and… I just spent the last of my allowance on these lessons here - mostly to keep this great thug quiet." She looked apologetic and then blew a curl of hair from her face.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, feeling suddenly quite foolish. "Of course. I still owe you for the others too."

She quickly shook her head. "No! No, those were gifts, it cost me nothing, and I can make you anything else from the old fabrics, I doubt anyone will be wantin' them. For the new styles, I'll need to replenish my supplies."

I nodded and told her I would think about it and find her within the next day or so with payment for the fabrics if I decided to go ahead with it. I was hesitant to ask Bofur for money, actually I was terrified to. I idly wondered if he had received any reward for being one of the company to reclaim Erebor. I expected that those details had yet to be sorted out, or else Bofur was just extremely frugal with his money as there had been no indication he was currently rolling in riches.

* * *

Bofur waylaid me while I was on my way to my rooms and convinced me to accompany him to dinner. I had really hoped to reach my quarters before he had seen me, as I desperately wished to wash up and change. Nevertheless I was quite hungry, and I had often met Bofur directly after working. He never seemed to mind, and was often just as grimy as I, so why should today be different?

Unfortunately we passed by a few dwarf women just as we entered the small dining hall and I did not miss their crinkled noses and haughty glares - though I suspect Bofur did as he sat down cheery as ever while I slumped onto the bench, my anger returning. I tried to manage it as we dished up.

"You know I can read, right?" I said in an off-hand manner as we ate.

"Can you?" Bofur asked incredulously as he cast me a sidelong glance, trying to figure out where exactly I was going with this.

"Yes!" I snapped, and then scowled down at my plate. "Well, not here. I don't know your runes obviously."

"Well now, beautiful and smart, what a catch you are." Bofur quipped cheerfully but I fixed him with an icy stare which succeeded in felling his foolish grin. "Something I said?" he asked after blinking a few times at my stone-cold expression.

"Don't joke." I said bitingly. "You very well know that I am _not_." I shoved my plate away and got up, storming off before he could reply.

He caught up to me a ways down the corridor, running up behind me and grabbing my arm to stop me.

"What's wrong?" he asked after he spun me around to face him.

I tossed up my hands, breaking his grip on my arm. "I'm a boy!" I exclaimed in frustration.

"I'm _pretty sure _that you're not." Bofur replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up and his eyes dancing in mirth.

"Just look at me!" I ordered angrily, not impressed by his amusement.

Bofur laid his hands on my upper arms, his expression becoming more serious. "I am." he said, his voice low and calm.

"And?" I asked, my fury beginning to fade into desperation. "What do you see?"

Bofur studied me, his warm brown eyes so full of concern that I felt immediately guilty for my outbreak. He smiled.

"I see the beautiful woman that I am in love with."

I let myself relax somewhat and tried to offer him a look of gratitude.

"But I look _nothing_ like your women. Everyone here mistakes me for a lowly human serving boy." I retorted, frowning down at my rumpled, dirty clothing covering my unshapely body.

"Now I highly doubt that." Bofur assured, sliding his hands up my arms and placing them gently on my shoulders.

"I really am a mess though." I admitted, grimacing slightly for emphasis. He grinned and shook his head.

"You don't have to work, you know." he said gently, though his voice was serious.

"I want to." I retorted quickly. "It's not hard work really, and it's nice to feel I'm contributing here."

"But I am contributing, so you don't need to." Bofur replied, reaching down and taking my hands. "Understand that the dwarrowdams don't work. They do their sewing, occasional craft-making, some might even trade or sell their wares, but physical labour is beneath them. They live lazy and luxurious lives because they _can_, and it is an honour for a dwarf to be able to support his partner so that she never need dirty her hands... I would do that for you, if you'll let me."

I grinned. "I'm so used to being busy. I don't know if I'd be suited to a life of comfort."

Bofur smiled. "You really are like no other woman I've ever met. Perhaps one day I can convince you to live the pampered and spoiled life I'd like to give to you." he said cheekily. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do?"

I started to shake my head but then stopped, remembering that I did need something. The words were on my tongue but I was hesitant to ask.

"Actually," I began quietly, my mouth suddenly dry, "well... I need to borrow some coin - if you have any that I might borrow, that is." I grimaced a bit at the awkward question. "And don't ask me why, and I don't know when I can pay you back…"

Bofur looked at me, and I looked down at my feet.

He reached into his coat, pulled out a small leather pouch, took up my hand and placed it firmly into it.

"Keep it." He said simply.

I smiled slightly. "No, I _will_ pay you back… In one way or another." I added, biting my lip as I really wasn't sure how to go about earning an actual wage within Erebor.

He grinned mischievously and took a small step towards me. "Oh, I'm sure we can find a way to settle your debt."

The sound of approaching dwarves forced him to step back once more. A dwarrowdam, dressed splendorous, sultry even with the thin braided moustache that was woven into her shining auburn hair, escorted by three well-to-do dwarves. We watched them pass in silence then Bofur looked back to me.

"And don't listen to the dwarrowdams." He said. "You are lovely, in every sense."

I glanced once more at the dwarrowdam before she disappeared around the corner and then looked back to Bofur, half scowling, half pouting at him even though my mood was already much improved.

"How can you say that, compared to the women here?" I asked despite myself, reaching up and tugging on one of his braids with a small grin to show I wasn't too sour anymore.

He smiled, genuinely, and I felt my heart ache at his touching reply.

"Because you are everything they are not."


	32. Wit Beyond Treasure

As an unexpected bonus from my self-conscious breakdown, Bofur had asked me to take time off from my usual duties and accompany him and a small party of dwarves to Dale the following day. I happily agreed and was completely surprised to hear that we would be part of an escort issuing the first of many instalments of gold to the city. Bofur explained that it had been Bilbo's wish to give Dale the vast majority of his share from the contractual agreement he had signed with Thorin.

"It took a while to iron out the details." Bofur explained as we headed towards Erebor's entrance hall the next morning. "Dain technically could have decided to ignore the terms of that contract altogether. And in reality it would not be logistical for Dale to actually receive one-fourteenth of the entire hoard of Erebor. The economies of these two kingdoms would all but collapse if we just handed over that kind of wealth. It's the same reason the lads and I aren't rolling in one fourteenth of the treasure - though, to be fair, our contracts never officially promised us such a large payment. We figured Bilbo would need extra convincing. So we will be arranging a kind of working agreement with the city, with a large donation upfront strictly to help their restoration efforts."

I listened idly as he chatted, nodding in vague understanding. One fourteenth of that treasure would have filled the streets of Dale, and as Bofur made me aware, such an amount would render the currency essentially useless. It would definitely be more than one dwarf could spend, likely within a thousand thousand lifetimes - though perhaps dwarves were extremely frivolous with their wealth; I did recall seeing an entire floor of gold...

"They decided to send me along as a figurehead I suppose," he continued happily, "since Bard already knows me well enough, and he'd remember I was undoubtedly the most amiable and charming of the company."

I smiled, though I knew some part of it was true. Bofur would have a hard time getting on anyone's bad side, and Bard would likely be more cordial while corresponding with those he knew - though of the dwarves that had been regulars in his home before Smaug attacked, only Bofur and Óin remained, and Bofur was the obvious choice when it came to matters of public communications - being much more personable, not to mention of much better hearing.

The caravan was already loaded by the time we arrived. Two sleek rams were harnessed to the front and two burly dwarves wearing armour were holding onto their halters, waiting for the remainder of the group to arrive.

Three more dwarves eventually approached, one of which was carrying a large bundle over his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground in front of him and I heard a loud clanging of metal, he nudged the canvas open with his boot to reveal a small array of weapons.

"What are those for?" I asked quietly as the others stepped forward and hefted a few up to appraise them.

"Our job is to deliver, but also to guard - in the unlikely event we're accosted on the road." Bofur said, picking up an axe for himself and a small sword which he handed to me. "A bit extreme since we can literally see our destination, but orders are orders..."

One of the others said something in Khuzdul, looking at me in with a rather extreme glower.

I looked at Bofur, my eyebrows raised in question.

"He worries that you'll steal the treasure before we get there." he said simply with an apologetic grin.

"What would I do? Shove a few handfuls down the front of my dress and run off towards the hillsides?" I retorted sarcastically.

Bofur smiled and addressed the glowering dwarf. "Don't worry about her. She can be trusted. I'll even take her down myself if she tries any funny business."

The dwarf huffed in indignation as Bofur winked at me, and then signalled the caravan driver to begin. Before we had even exited the mountain, however, a messenger hurried up from one of the lower passages waving a scroll. He stopped, had a hurried word with the driver, and once he got the response he desired he hurried away again, leaving the scroll. I looked at Bofur questioningly.

"Seems one of the partially excavated aquifers has collapsed." He explained. "Took a store of blasting powder and tools with it. The scroll is asking Bard to send boats down the River Running and then up to the Iron Hills to procure more in short order."

"Why can't we just make more here?" I asked.

"Oh, we likely could." Bofur agreed. "If I had to guess, this is Dain's way of reminding Bard that this gold here comes with strings attached. He will expect Dale to be _quite_ cooperative."

I frowned, unsure why such actions would even be necessary. To lighten the mood, Bofur nudged me gently. "I know what you're thinking; _poor me, I'll be without bath water for a whole score of days._"

His mimicry was so awful that I couldn't help but smile and roll my eyes.

"Truth is," he continued, "the mountain is operating so vastly far under capacity that every one of its underground aquifers could dry up and we'd still have enough water to last us the better part of a year without even leaving the mountain."

His explanations were cut short as the driver was ordered to begin again and we dutifully fell in step behind it.

As we followed the trundling cart into the valley, I made a point of looking out over the landscape where the fighting had been thickest. The dwarves had done well in cleaning the field of debris, once living and otherwise. I noticed the scrub grass that once had been all that could cling to life in the desolation was now all but gone, churned beneath blood stained earth and snow.

I thought I should have felt more frightened, that unbidden memories would resurface and play on those fears, further confirming to these dwarves that I had no place amongst them. In truth, the level of calm I felt was unsettling. There was sadness, yes, but it was the deep sadness of mourning for such monumental loss, as opposed to the acute pain of anguish I had felt a few weeks previous. I realized that all throughout the battle, despite the hordes of hell descending upon us, I was not afraid of death. I was afraid of losing that which meant most to me, of dying before saying one last goodbye to the one who gave me new reason to live. Now, with him here beside me, there was no fear.

I took a deep breath of the cool mountain air, and when I let it out, it was with a smile.

Another of the dwarves cast a look my way and then spoke an offhand comment from beneath his helmet. More Khuzdul.

"Great, what does _he_ have to say to me now?"

"He says he remembers seeing you on the battlefield." Bofur translated. "That he was surprised you survived."

I glowered daggers at the dwarf, who was looking back to see my reaction. Bofur leaned in once more to rescue me from myself.

"He _meant_ it as a compliment." He whispered sweetly. My jaw dropped and the anger melted away. I smiled sheepishly and the dwarf nodded to me before turning his attention back ahead, for we were approaching the causeway to Dale.

We were greeted by a host of men. Contrary to the relative rabble that had been forced to fight unprepared in the battle, these men were decked out in the finest gear, and carried themselves like they knew how to use it. It would seem that Bard had been building up more than just walls since we were in Dale last. As we passed through the city gate, I spun slowly to see several archers crouched beneath the parapets as well, some still surveying the very path we had just walked down, while most looked inward to the city.

In the courtyard just beyond, Bard waited with a large throng of assistants, many whom I recognized. Our caravan halted, and got to its purpose. Bofur exchanged a few pleasantries with Bard and idly chatted with some of the other humans as two of the other dwarves hefted down three sizable chests.

At Bard's beckoning, two of the chests were carried between the dwarves into a nearby guardhouse. It took several more humans to handle the last chest, and I followed along behind simply trying to stay out of the way. Once inside, the thick wooden door was shut and locked. The driver of the caravan then approached and pulled out a key, with which he unlocked one of the chests and opened the lid.

Bard stepped forward, looking grim, as usual, despite the fact that he was now literally peering down at a chest near overflowing with shining gold coins.

I leaned close to Bofur's ear with a smirk and whispered, "Which one do you reckon was stuck to my bottom?"

He quickly hushed me, nudging me with his elbow as he did so, but did not attempt to hide his grin.

"As promised." One of the dwarves said, looking equally as grim as Bard while he handed over the key. "Our King keeps his word, and for that your returning loyalty is expected."

"He shall have it." Bard replied curtly, closing the lid on the chest and relocking it.

The dwarves nodded, and after a quick word with Bard about Dain's request (which Bard seemed none too pleased about), they passed over the scroll and hastened to leave. I lingered behind with Bofur as he commented on Dale's progress and asked of their future endeavours. All too soon he had shaken Bard's hand and turned to me, ready to depart. I frowned slightly. I had hoped to stay longer, perhaps visit Sigrid and explore the city to see their progress.

"I could arrange to come pick you up later today?" Bofur offered, noting my reluctance to leave. I smiled and was about to agree when Bard turned to us.

"If you don't object, I can escort her back before nightfall." he stated, looking from me to Bofur. "My daughters would not let me hear the end of it if I did not invite you to share a meal with them while you are here."

I looked to Bofur. "Is that alright?" I asked hopefully.

He smiled. "Sure thing. I'll be off then to catch up to the caravan." Without warning he tiptoed up, reached around my neck and pulled me into a quick kiss. I gave him a quizzical look afterwards but he simply winked and departed. Apparently the rules of courtship did not apply when there were no other dwarves watching.

I turned to Bard, slightly embarrassed, but he did not make so much as a face. In fact, my look seemed to make _him_ feel self conscious as he raised his eyebrows and asked "Is something wrong?" I recovered myself and shook my head, then bade him to lead on.

* * *

We walked up the main thoroughfare towards the centre of the city which had been cleared of much of the debris since I had last raced its course. It was evident, even through the age old carnage, that Dale had once been a wondrous place. The shattered and crumbling tiles were colourful and decorative and the structural remains hinted at grandeur, yet I doubted Dale would ever fully emanate its ancient splendour.

We spoke idle bits of information, mostly about repairs to our respective cities - not that he didn't likely know more of Erebor than I did at this point. It was a small kindness on his part though, to let me talk in my own tongue to my own kind - it was the sort of interaction I had been sorely lacking. During a brief silence, I noticed he was carrying the scroll sent by the dwarves, which brought another thought to mind.

"Have any books survived?" I asked, still secretly nursing the hurt from being thought too simple to know how to read.

"Books?" Bard repeated incredulously as he directed me down a sidelong street. A few townsfolk greeted him as they allowed us to pass by.

"You mentioned you had done a few supply runs to Laketown - well, what's left of Laketown." I added with small sympathetic smile. "I just wondered if any books were recovered… or if any had been found within Dale?"

Bard studied me for a moment. "Truthfully we had not thought to look. Our efforts were on recovering only what would help the people survive through the winter. If anything... well, the need for fires is growing." He added forebodingly.

I must have looked crestfallen, simply letting out a small 'oh' in reply. Here I was worrying about what others thought of me and wanting entertainment for my leisure time, while the people here were in danger of freezing to death if they didn't get the tools and supplies they needed in time.

Still, he must have pitied me, since he put on his best optimistic grimace (anything more would have looked forced).

"There may yet be hope." He said. "I can ask the women creating the inventory if any have survived within Dale. Otherwise, we have plans to enter Laketown once more before the week is up_."_

* * *

As we approached Dale's central district, Bard's children came running to meet us, and while I thought maybe they were excited to see me I soon realized something was amiss. Tilda led the way, and when she reached her father she exclaimed dramatically "Da! Our ceiling collapsed!" before hugging him.

Bard quickly took stock of his other children, asking the older siblings if they were hurt. Both assured him no one was harmed.

"It was a near miss though," Bain explained as we made our way towards the building. "Sigrid had just put on the kettle, hoping you'd be back soon."

"If I hadn't gone to the Great Hall to ask for sugar..." Sigrid added, trailing off at the thought as we came into the central square. People from nearby had rushed to help clear away the rubble, but it was evident that there would be no dinners prepared in Bard's kitchen anytime soon. Instead, Bard invited me to the Great Hall itself, where many of Laketown's former residents still gathered for light meals throughout the day.

"Why is it that every time I try to entertain, my roof collapses?" Bard grumbled as we crossed the square.

"At least this one hasn't burnt down yet..." I ventured, earning a small wry smile from the man; I was beginning to get a handle on his somewhat grim sense of humour.

"Not recently, at least." He amended, and with that we climbed the steps up and into the hall. The space had been greatly rejuvenated since my last visit, and the mood was improved vastly now that the city was no longer under siege. Many tables lined the outside of the room, filled with people coming for quick meals between tasks. Fires roared in hearths and cooking pits all around, blazing merrily away. Many of the holes in the walls had been patched to look better than new, and the ceiling was almost fully repaired as well.

"The dwarves have been a great help here. They repaired many of the buildings around the town centre, including my new home. I don't know how they could do such miraculous work on one building, and yet on the next their work falls apart within a fortnight." He mused, running a hand over one of the patched sections where the stones seemed to fit together perfectly.

"Bain, once we're finished here find one of the stonemasons and inspect all the work they've done. We can't have walls falling in on people while they sleep."

Bain seemed to be getting more responsibilities, I realized, as he accepted the task readily but made little of it. It stood to reason that Bard needed every working body he had at the moment, which returned my thoughts to the dwarves.

It struck me as odd that such an oversight would be made by the dwarves Dain had sent to help, especially after seeing what wonders they had worked within the mountain since their arrival. Still, maybe they had saved their best architects for Erebor and sent regular soldiers out to help rebuild Dale. I would ask Bofur about it upon my return.

Bard's children and I settled in at one of the emptier tables, and while Bard went to get food I asked about the other tasks there was to attend to in Dale. Bain was turning into a jack of all trades it seemed, and was also being trained in swordplay and archery. Sigrid was doing much the same work as I was, it seemed, but also took time to assist her father in administrative matters (Bard's handwriting left something to be desired, apparently). I noted that at some point she had taken possession of the scroll Dain had sent, which she now toyed with idly. Tilda had appointed herself den mother to several of the orphans of the battle, and had them assisting in tending the growing herds and flocks of farm animals that continued to be rounded up from the countryside.

Bard joined us with a tray laden with meats, cheeses and several pieces of dense, flat looking bread that seemed remotely familiar.

"Is that cram...?" I asked, reaching out to tear off a section.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find better. The bakers can't keep up with the demand for fresh loaves."

"No, it's alright." I assured him, nibbling on a corner of the dense bread. It barely had any flavour to speak of, but it brought back memories of travelling the lakes and rivers with my father long ago. I must have been lost in thought, staring pensively without taking a second bite.

"Is today's batch really that bad?" Bard asked humorously, and Tilda seemed to reconsider a chunk she had sitting before her, sliding it a bit further away from her on the table.

I shook my head and busied myself with finishing my piece, careful to ration it sparingly between bites of cheese and meat - not a hard task as it packed more calories than any other food I could think of, and nostalgia notwithstanding the taste, or lack thereof, still left much to be desired. As we ate, I pressed the family for more details about life beyond the walls of Erebor.

News of the death of Smaug had spread across Middle Earth, and Dale was quickly becoming a hub for all manner of folk. Not all of Dale's original inhabitants had settled on the Long Lake after the city's ruin, and so there were many descendants, often distantly related to the older Laketowners, who now ventured to the city. Others were fortune seekers hoping to gain some piece of the fabled treasure hoard, or thrill seekers looking to explore the Desolation of Smaug. There had even been a party of self proclaimed dragon hunters (who no one had ever heard of) who showed up claiming to have been on a quest to kill the beast, only to find Bard had beaten them to it. They had lingered for a few days imposing upon the hospitality of the townsfolk until Bard had asked them how they were planning to repay the kindness, after which they made excuses and set off for Laketown's ruins where they were, to this day, trying to figure out a way to float the dragon carcass off the bottom of the lake.

There was also the matter of finding and renovating homes for refugees from the nearby countryside. The surviving orcs, as well as a good number of wargs (including Azog's elusive white warg) had fled to the southeast towards the Rhún, and while Eagles and patrols from both Erebor and the Iron hills had given chase, several farms and homesteads had been laid to waste between the River Running and the River Redwater, all the way down to the Sea of Rhún. Survivors of these attacks had no choice but to make the pilgrimage to Dale or face starvation over the winter, but the influx of people was straining the city's already fragile infrastructure.

Bard explained that the dwarves had called off pursuit when the scattered orcish remnants had finally turned due south and fled into the realm of Gondor in desperation."The Rohirrim will finish them off." he assured us.

"Is it true that they let their horses sleep in their homes and feed them from their tables?" Tilda asked innocently.

"The Rohirrim are a very noble and honourable people." Bard stated admonishingly. "During Girion's reign, he and Fréaláf Hildeson, the tenth king of Rohan, were on good terms. And where do you think the Master of Laketown got the horses you are now so enthralled with?" His daughter sheepishly looked away.

Bard then turned his gaze towards the windows, noting the darkening of the sky.

"Speaking of horses, it's time we rode for Erebor. I've had enough of surly dwarves to last me a lifetime - I'd rather not evoke the ire of your friends by keeping you out too late." He flashed me what was almost a smile, and then waited for me to say my goodbyes to Bain, Sigrid and Tilda before we made ready to leave. Bard had called for two horses to be made ready, and while we waited he explained that several from Laketown had escaped during the dragon's attack on the city, swimming to shore only to be wrangled in the days thereafter. They hoped to purchase more the following spring, giving his people enough time to fully restore the stables.

Mounted, we made much better time through the city. At the gates, Bard had a quick word with the city watch, and then we set out at a quick pace. The ride was uneventful, and the early winter winds being channelled down the valley forced us to bundle further into our clothing and keep conversation to a functional minimum. I began to shiver, despite clutching the reigns of my horse with one hand while keeping my cloak pulled tight about me with the other, and as we neared the mountain's entrance the winds only got worse, swirling and eddying about against the stones.

When we dismounted at the gates, we were met by a guard just as miserable as I was to be out in the elements. Apparently, no one had informed him of my imminent return, and he was sceptical to even allow a human entrance into the mountain without direct leave of the king. With numbing fingertips and near frostbitten cheeks, I hadn't the patience to deal with him.

"Oh, by all means, call Dain." I snapped. "I'm sure he would have a thing or two to say about one of his loyal guards so _valiantly_ protecting the kingdom by allowing a lone woman to freeze to death outside the door - especially a friend of his daughter's. So please, do call him. I'm sure he has nothing better to do."

The guard scowled so heavily it was visible beneath his metal helm, nevertheless he signalled to his comrade who began to slowly open the gates.

I turned and hastily said my goodbyes to Bard, thanking him for the opportunity to get out and assuring him that I would be interested in venturing to Laketown sometime soon. He promised he would keep an eye out for reading material, but before I could retreat into the warmth of the mountain he asked that I wait a moment more. He busied himself with his saddle bags for a moment, and I could hear the dwarven guard huff from somewhere within. Finally Bard returned with a package.

"This isn't much, and the content leaves much to be desired..." He explained as I unwrapped the package to find a solitary, well worn book.

"_The Procurement of Salt in_ _the_ _Rhûn_ _Region, Volume Three_?" I ventured curiously, reading the small imprinted title on the front. I carefully flipped it open, many of the pages were waterlogged, worn or missing altogether, but still it was enough.

"The only thing I could think of on such short notice was to have someone check the kindling piles in the great hall..." He stated by means of an apology, but I was quite touched, and so to save him from belittling his act of kindness further I gave him a quick hug.

"Thank you!" I said happily.

The dwarf down the hall groaned and began muttering again.

"I should go... Goodnight Bard." With that, I clutched the book carefully under one arm and entered into the warm glow of the mountain.

* * *

I took a few detours before returning to my quarters and, after finally breaking down and shyly asking a few more importantly dressed dwarves, I was directed to the door of a small antechamber and told to wait outside while the dwarf entered and asked Méra if she wished to be disturbed by my presence.

I brooded for a few moments at the dwarf's snooty attitude then suddenly a tangle of red hair burst out of the door in a flurry. She grabbed my upper arm and led me a few quick paces down the hall away from the room.

"Great timing," she huffed, "Mum almost had me pinned, she wanted to _style_ my hair. Thank goodness you rescued me!"

"You're welcome." I offered tentatively before getting to business. "I'm glad I found you. Here. Will this cover the materials you'll need?" I pulled out the pouch of coins and handed it to her.

She loosened the tie and began to spill coins into her other hand, I noticed all were gold.

"Oi! This is far more than I'll be needing, you know." She dumped them back into the purse and then fished out three singular coins before handing me back the pouch with the rest.

"Oh, that's it?" I asked, feeling quite a few coins remaining. Bofur had been generous indeed.

Méra nodded happily. "Do yah know what I smell?" She asked with a wicked grin. I shook my head, confused as I did not smell anything unusual at that moment.

"I smell a makeover!"


	33. The Turn of the Tide

After my refreshing foray in Dale, and feeling excited over the new dress I was now set to receive, I decided to dash the stifling rules of courtship and visit Bofur in his rooms after hours. As I walked towards our wing of the mountain, I was thankful that Erebor always had its main travel routes quite well lit as I still felt rather unsteady crossing certain bridges and climbing some of the open concept stairwells. When I reached Bofur's door I quietly tried the handle without knocking and, after determining it was indeed unlocked. I sidled inside and shut the door firm behind me, beginning to undo my coat and happily announcing myself as I walked in.

"I'm cold! And I can think of more than a few ways you can warm me-"

I stopped mid-sentence when I actually looked up to see a few strange dwarves, seated on Bofur's furniture, staring at me with expressions ranging from bemusement to outright condescension.

"-up." I finished awkwardly, trying to subtlety pull my coat back over my shoulders.

Bofur had jumped up from his spot on the chair and rushed over to me, eyes wide but I could tell he was biting back a smile.

"Dearest, won't you come meet my guests?" He said, recovering himself quickly.

My face fell and I tried to shake my head very slightly. I was mortified and wanted nothing more than for him to just excuse me so I could get out of there.

Nevertheless he lightly took my arm, just above the elbow and led me into the firelight.

"These are some of the leading members of Erebor's restoration committee. They were inspecting this area for structural damages. I'm so pleased you decided to join us so I can make proper introductions." He began, showing no signs of embarrassment.

"This is the woman who joined the company of Thorin along route," Bofur began, letting go of my arm and taking a step away from me. "She saved several of our hides along the way, and also helped fund the journey to reach the mountain before Durin's Day fell."

A dwarrowdam with a rather astoundingly large nose set down her glass of tea and looked up at me with a confused expression.

She uttered something in Khuzdul, glancing at the grey-haired dwarf that sat beside her.

"Common tongue, if you will." Bofur requested somewhat brusquely. "But yes, she also fought in the battle, along with many women of Laketown... They are made of sterner stuff than most." I glanced at Bofur appreciatively and waited until he had introduced the four guests before sidling back out of the spotlight and sitting lightly on the arm of the chair.

"The architects will need to draft up plans for the compromised stairwell." The other dwarrowdam stated once the rather forced pleasantries were finished. "They have concluded their work in Dale for the season so they should be able to be scheduled within a fortnight. Besides that, this quadrant is in no need of immediate attention."

My ears perked up and I swallowed back my nervousness and spoke up.

"Some of the repairs done within Dale are not sound." I said, earning myself a few hard stares in the process. I tried to explain myself. "Only just today a ceiling had collapsed."

"That is not possible." The younger of the two males stated, adjusting his eyepiece. "There must have been human workers involved."

I frowned. "I believe this ceiling in particular was entirely of dwarven make."

The large nosed dwarrowdam tutted and spoke once more in their tongue, this time with a rather sharp tone. Bofur shot her a glare but held up his hand to calm her.

"She knows not of what she speaks." The other woman said, looking at Bofur.

"She knows well enough." Bofur said firmly. "It might be wise to send an inspector back to the city-"

"If the master of Dale sees our work as unfit he can bring it to us himself." The greyed dwarf grumbled. "As it is, they are getting far better than they deserve. What our king was thinking sending them to the city before attending to our own needs is beyond me."

The others nodded and then began speaking of the complex arrangements being made to restore support beams in the main entrance halls while they finished their tea. Bofur caught my eye and raised his eyebrows, nodding towards the door when the others weren't looking. I stared at him blankly for a moment before getting the hint. I scrambled to my feet.

"It's late, I must be off." I announced suddenly. "...An honour to meet you all." I sidestepped towards the door, half waving and half curtsying to the group, before turning and ducking out into the hallway.

I returned to my rooms lamenting my seemingly inherent ability to create awkward situations.

An hour or so later when I was lying in bed, still trying not to cringe at the memory of my foolishness, I heard my chamber door. I sat up, though I suspected who it was.

Bofur stepped into my room, barefooted and wearing a simple grey shirt and pants.

He leaned against my doorframe and studied me, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his lips.

I groaned an apology and flopped back down, burying my face in the pillow.

"Tonight of all nights, eh lass?" Bofur chuckled as I felt him sit down beside me and place a hand on my back.

I turned and peeked up at him through my hair. He reached up and brushed it away from my face, sliding his fingers through it as he did so.

"Forgive me?" I asked, not knowing if my impropriety would get him in trouble in any way if his 'esteemed' guests decided to stoop to the level of gossiping.

"Nothing to forgive." He said with a smile. "Are you still cold?" He asked, his voice lowering somewhat.

I grinned and sat up, then slid my icy hands up his shirt and onto his stomach. He sucked in a breath of air and grabbed my wrists to still them.

"I'm always cold here." I said with a smile, struggling to slide my touch to a fresh patch of warm skin on his abdomen.

Bofur, still holding firm onto my wrists, pulled them away and then eased me down onto my back, placing my arms above my head and effectively pinning me down as he climbed over top of me.

"Maybe I should get you some more blankets." He said softly, leaning down to place a slow kiss along my jawline.

"I think a dwarf would be a more effective bed-warmer." I replied, trying to squirm out of his grasp.

"Do you now?" Bofur teased, shifting so that only one hand was holding my arms down, his other now free to trail along my body. "You know what I think?"

"Hmm?" I murmured, biting back a gasp as his hand slid up between my legs.

"I think you're a bad influence."

He brought his lips down to mine and began kissing me lightly, teasingly. Yet still my wrists were pinned, and each time I dared to deepen the kiss he would pull back just slightly. I felt him smirk against my lips. He was doing this on purpose. His free hand travelled back up my side and behind my neck and into my hair, his scent filling my senses. I moaned into his mouth and tried once again to free my arms, but to no avail.

He unexpectedly broke the kiss and sat up, his heated hazel eyes filled with unspoken promises.

"...You know I cannot stay." he said, though his body seemed to wish otherwise. My own body was thrumming with frustrated energy and I clenched my jaw. If he wanted to play unfair, then game on.

I watched as he got to his feet, trying not to scowl at the proud smile he was evidently trying very hard to bite back, yet as he began to leave my room I got up and followed him.

"Well, I think I'll take a bath to help me sleep." I said nonchalantly once he had stopped at my chamber door and turned to bid me goodnight. He nodded somewhat disinterestedly yet his eyes widened when I proceeded to pull off my nightgown, casually tossing it on the back of the chair.

I allowed his eyes to rove over me for a moment before I stepped up to him and slid my arms around his neck, pressing my naked body close against him. This time I was able to kiss him the way I had been yearning to. His hands slid up my bare back but before he could fully take hold of me I pulled away with a hidden grin.

"_Goodnight_." I smiled sweetly, opening the door for him and pushing on his chest until he had stepped backwards a few paces into the hallway, too flabbergasted to resist.

I shut the door promptly on him with a satisfying click, a smug smile twisting onto my lips as I turned and sauntered back to bed.

It was only after I was wrapped back up in the covers and my excitement died down that another thought came to mind:

_Thank the maker no one else had been in that hallway._

* * *

The following week passed relatively peacefully for most of the inhabitants of Erebor. Bofur and I, however, had begun a relatively cruel game of sorts that involved trying to make each other as hot and flustered as we possibly could without any actual gratification as we adhered to the 'rules' of courtship.

It was a rare occasion one evening that we found ourselves at a late dinner with much of the company, along with a small crowd of boisterously loud dwarven men and a few women. I was sitting next to Bofur, admiring his features in the candlelight, when I thought to exact my revenge for when he had accosted me that afternoon - pressing me back against the wall of an empty hallway, engaging me in a quick but heated kiss before abruptly carrying on his merry way without so much as a word farewell.

I scooted right close to him, which I knew wasn't of much concern since the benches were packed anyway and we were crowded closely on all sides. Then I leaned in to speak into his ear, which I would have had to do regardless since it was hard to hear over the conversations of everyone else. He paused attentively, leaning in slightly to catch my words, and I breathlessly whispered my desire for him, making sure my lips brushed against his ear as I told him I wanted him right then.

I grinned as I saw his hand twitch at my bold declaration, the sudden movement spilling ale over the rim of his tankard. His face, however, remained mostly impassive besides the slight quirk of his moustache as he tilted his head to look at me.

I bit my lip slowly to hide my grin, but kept my eyes locked on his, watching as they deepened and filled with desire. I then subtly dropped my hand below the table's edge and onto his thigh.

He remained confident and seemingly unaffected as he responded to something Gloin had said from across the table. I moved my hand a little higher, rubbing very slowly. Bofur cleared his throat and I felt him tense as I rubbed higher still. I leaned into him again, making sure to keep my face pleasant so as to not cause any suspicion of my devious words.

"I know you want me." I murmured huskily. "You could have me you know... right now... I'm ready for you." I smiled as I retreated, noticing his grip tightening on his cup.

He shot me a small glare, shaking his head ever so slightly before having to reply to something Bifur was pestering him about. I gave his upper thigh a final squeeze before excusing myself. Feeling somewhat triumphant as I felt Bofur's wanting gaze follow me out.

My retribution was short-lived, however, as the following morning I had just opened my door to my chambers to head to work when I found myself face to face with my beloved. He smirked and pushed me back inside, closing the door behind us and then pressing me up against it.

"You are a naughty, wanton temptress." he growled, lacing his fingers through mine and then pinning my arms up against the door as he pressed his body into mine. I smiled luxuriously, but I was not about to let him get the upper hand.

"And you are a dirty, teasing, flirt." I retorted, lunging forward and biting his lip somewhat roughly. He made a noise of admonishment and then passionately claimed my mouth. I wrapped a leg around his hip, pulling him even closer.

"I believe we are at an impasse." I remarked as we paused for air.

"What do you suggest we do then?" Bofur asked, planting another kiss on my collarbone.

"Pretend we've fallen ill and stay in bed together for a week?" I suggested with a grin. He chuckled.

"That wouldn't work." He said, releasing my hands and placing his on my waist. "Dwarves don't just _fall ill, _you know_._"

I pouted, grabbing onto his coat. "Well, then I can play ill and you can say you have to tend to me."

"Oh, don't I wish I could _tend_ to you." Bofur commented with gusto, gripping my sides for emphasis. "But, rules are rules." With that he let go of me, stepping back a few paces so that I could straighten up.

I scowled but then turned and resolutely locked my door. I looked back to him then with a grin.

"Oh no you don't, not this time." I said as he raised his eyebrows. I started forward and placed my hands on his chest, pushing him back towards the entrance to my bedroom.

I knew his will was all but gone as if he'd have wanted to stay rooted to the spot, no amount of pushing on my behalf would have budged him. He smirked as he allowed himself to slowly be guided backwards as he weakly protested.

"You're terrible you know." he said causing me to smile. "I've never met a lass with such disregard for rules. You'll get us both in trouble."

"Oh dear. I suppose you'll have to punish me then." I said with a sultry grin as his back legs bumped into the side of my bed. I shrieked when his hands took hold of my middle and he suddenly swung me around and tossed me back onto the mattress.

"You can count on it."

* * *

Needless to say, I was rather late for work that day. But upon returning to my rooms that evening I noticed a small parcel sitting on my table. I wandered towards it, curious. A note was left as well and I smiled as I read the words scrawled across it. _'For My Wanton Temptress.'_

I eagerly undid the strings and pulled open the covering to reveal a wooden figurine. The hound Bofur had promised to someday carve for me. I struggled to contain my excitement as I marvelled his handiwork. It was a hunting dog posed in alertness, its front leg lifted as it pointed towards its quarry. Every detail was perfect; he'd even strategically added a rich stain to add depth and shadow. I carefully lifted it to my chest, loving my new possession, and loving its maker even more.

* * *

As a few more days passed by, I continued to fill my time with cleaning and restorative work with my assigned dwarven team. I was also able to release some energy during a few more rounds of secret combative training with the king's daughter.

During my off-time, usually starved for company now that Bofur all but refused to visit me in my chambers (since he knew that his willpower could be too easily broken behind closed doors); I began to spend more and more time in the common room adjacent to Balin's chambers. As royal advisor - both pre and post dragon - he had taken up residence in his old chambers; the largest of the apartments in this wing of the mountain.

One of his duties was to play host to the nobility in order to remain up-to-date on the latest gossip and news, which basically meant that he allowed guests use of the common room during all hours of the day. Servants, or in the current case Dori (who seemed to have self-appointed himself as steward of this part of the mountain), kept the room well stocked with firewood, food and drink, which meant it was always a welcome place to go when the solitude of my own rooms got me down. At times, a member of the company even dropped by, and when Bofur and I could be together, that was our meeting place of choice due to its ease and proximity to our own rooms.

During one such evening, I had curled myself up on a chaise lounge close to the fire. There were only a handful of other dwarves in the room, and as I didn't recognize any of them, nor they me, we kept to our own - which meant I had a chance to busy myself with the book I had so greatly desired, but had been putting off reading due to its less than gripping subject matter.

A few chapters into the book, I felt a hand fall on my shoulder, and looked to see familiar gloved fingers resting on my sleeve. I tipped my head back and smiled up at Bofur, who matched my smile and moved around. I sat up, giving him room to slide in beside me before I leaned back, resting on him now rather than the lounge back. Before he could even speak, I cut him off.

"Listen to this." I stated, and then looked down at the book with no small degree of ceremony.

"_1248, The Third Age of the Sun: During the conquest over the Easterlings at the hands of Minalcar, Regent of Gondor, it was found to be that the evaporating pools, once established and fortified during King Hyarmendacil's reign and occupation of the Sea of Rhún between 1015 and 1149, The Third Age of the Sun, had been maintained in adequate working order and had, since the subsequent rule of Gondor, been continuing their production of salt at upwards of 50 tons per annum for the purpose of trade with the Northmen and tribes of the Far East_."

I read with as much interest as I could feign, and when done, I spun around in my seat so I could look at him with raised eyebrows.

"Well, I for one will never take my salt for granted again." He stated sarcastically.

I shrugged. "Well, it was probably the most interesting passage I've read so far." I said, crinkling up my nose before resolutely setting the book down.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Bofur suddenly asked.

I glanced at him, biting my lip. "Same as today... do I have other plans?" I asked quizzically, wondering if I had forgotten something.

"A date. With me. Tomorrow night." he stated casually.

"A date?" I repeated, a smile growing on my lips.

Bofur grinned. "Well we haven't really had the chance to have a proper one."

"Alright then. So, what will we be doing on this date?" I asked curiously.

Bofur tapped his nose. "It's a secret, and don't be asking me more questions, I don't want to spoil it."

* * *

The next day, I took the liberty of forgoing my cleaning duties for the afternoon, once more reminding myself that I was not technically being paid for my work, so I could likely come and go as I pleased without too much inconvenience to the already fully-staffed cleaning team. I was anxious to get ready for my first real date and dashed back to my rooms when I was through for the day in order to begin preparing. I noticed when I arrived that a stack of extra folded blankets had been left just inside my door and assumed Bofur had spoken to Dori about not having enough to keep me warm through the night. After spreading them out on my bed, I retreated to the bath for a long soak.

Méra had not yet completed the new dress I'd commissioned of her, so after much deliberation, I decided I'd wear one of the short dresses I had first come to own in Erebor. It was a peculiar decision on my behalf, but I only possessed two proper long ones and I had worn both during the memorial days and coronation - occasions that harboured mixed emotions and sad memories. I wanted tonight to be an entirely new memory, and a good one at that, besides, I knew Bofur enjoyed seeing my legs and so my knee-length dress would give him plenty opportunity to admire them if he wished.

I donned some new, dark grey, woolen leggings, then rummaged until I found the dress I had in mind. I hadn't even worn it yet; it was a deep purple hue and had slightly longer sleeves than some of the others, reaching midway down my forearm. I placed a brown leather belt around my waist and pulled on my matching brown boots. Then I completed the outfit with a blue knit scarf that Ori had recently given to me. I left my hair down, pulling it over my shoulders, and then I sort of paced about my rooms, waiting for Bofur's arrival and feeling inexplicably nervous. I jumped when I finally heard his familiar knock on my door. Everything we had been through to this point had been so _unofficial_, yet now here he was, calling on me for a formal date. I took a deep breath and then went to open the door, forcing myself to smile calmly as I did so.

Bofur grinned, taking my hand and kissing it.

"Would the lady care to accompany this humble miner on a date?" he asked jovially.

"I'd be delighted." I responded with a small laugh. Bofur then looked both ways down the hall, then, after confirming we were alone, he stepped inside and shut the door.

"Just real quick... I can't help myself, you look lovely." he said as he took advantage of our privacy and pulled me down into a real kiss. I smiled as we broke apart and lazily draped my arms over his shoulders.

"Are you sure this is alright?" I asked, looking down at my motley outfit. "I know it's not fancy... you didn't tell me what we were doing, but if I'm underdressed I can change."

"No. It's actually perfect." Bofur insisted. "I didn't want you to wear anything real fancy anyway. Since this is our first real date, when I look back on it, I want it to have been with the real you, the girl I fell in love with."

"What, are you saying I'm not fancy?" I teased.

He shook his head and smiled, reaching a hand up to entwine my hair in his fingers

"I'm saying that you don't need to be. I've seen you dirty and travel-worn, bloodied and in armour... You can wear oddly-sized clothing and lovely dresses and men's travel wear and rich elven gowns... and no matter what, you have never been less than beautiful in my eyes."

I blushed and looked down, somewhat abashed at his seriousness. I kicked his toe lightly. "Well, that's... really kind of you." I mumbled with a small grin.

"Ready to go then?" he asked after directing me into another lasting kiss.

I nodded and began to move towards the door.

"You'll need your coat." he told me, stalling my progress.

Once I was properly adorned, we exited my chambers and Bofur picked up a rather full-looking bag that he had left outside the door. He hoisted it over his shoulder and then we set out into the mountain. I found that in the more populated areas, the sight of Bofur and I together in an official capacity drew almost as much attention as when I had been first noticed by the newcomers as the only human in Erebor. Now, however, I felt none of the embarrassment I had when I was alone. Bofur and I chatted idly as we walked, too absorbed in each other to care about what the world thought of us on our slow, meandering way through Erebor. We went from passing gossiping groups of nobles, to teams of workers restoring the lower levels, to single scouts so busy with their work that they didn't give us more than a passing glance.

Finally, we were well and truly alone, and it slowly became evident that Bofur was leading me far from the beaten track. Regular hallways became less structured, more craggy, and flawlessly polished stairwells turned into uneven holes descending haphazardly down into the darkness. Deeper and deeper we trekked, and I became aware of the eerie sensation that the weight of the world was now above us. The absolute lack of air movement disguised the fact that the temperature had gradually decreased during our descent, yet I began to notice a numbing coldness develop in my toes and nose. For the most part, however, my thermal layers, paired with my growing curiosity, kept my enthusiasm and energy levels up.

I was interested when we picked our way down and entered an area so cool that the moisture in the air could not help but freeze. As we carried on I began to worry that my feet would slip out from under me and send me unceremoniously to the ground. This, I noted ruefully, would give me a plethora of new bruises when I was just _finally_ healed from the battle. Eventually, the ground levelled out for a moment, where Bofur grabbed my arm to steady me before guiding me to a bench carved out of the cave wall. He set his lantern down on the bench beside me, and then knelt down and busied himself with rooting around in his pack as I took a moment to catch my breath.

Bofur first pulled out a pair of mitts. I raised my eyebrows but donned them without question. If he hadn't told me where we were going yet, he wasn't going to now.

He then produced a torch which he preceded to light with a striker, its powerful brightness causing me to shield my eyes for a moment, yet before I had even adjusted to the new light level, I was bid to hold the torch so Bofur could rummage in his bag once more. Finally he pulled out two sets of leather bindings which rattled and clattered as the metal teeth woven through them were freed from the confines of his bag.

"These..." He paused a moment and rose to untangle them all from each other in better light, "...are called crampons." He explained, and then went about fitting the leather over my boot. A series of cross-pieces kept the metal from riding up over the bottom of my soles, and once the fastenings were tied tight over my toe and around my ankle, the metal teeth pointed downward, where they would bite into the ice to give purchase on the slippery surface. He then fastened some onto his own boots, which made me wonder just how slick and dangerous our course might be, if even the sure-footed dwarves took such precautions down here.

Bofur took back the new torch along with his lantern as I grabbed my own, and we then continued our journey along the passageway. The walls and ceiling dipped and bowed, sometimes expanding and other times narrowing so low that I needed to stoop down. As we carried on, I appreciated my quirky outfit choice more and more as a longer dress would have become rather burdensome to deal with while trying to keep my footing. The dwarves really were at home down here though, as Bofur didn't seem to have that problem at all.

"Watch your head." Bofur warned as he made his way forward.

Finally, after squeezing through a relatively narrow opening where we had to turn sideways to get through, I was told I could stand up straight again, and as I did my lips parted in wonder as my eyes drank in my new surroundings.

"Wow." Was all I could articulate as I lifted my hand to place it on the wall of the cavern, which was covered with a layer of solid ice; an ice cave, a sight that I was sure few humans ever had the rare opportunity to see.

I cast my eyes upwards and marvelled at the sight. Our lanterns illuminated the infinite tiny facets of ice that had grown upon the roof of the cave, causing the entire surface to simply glitter as if imbued with millions of shining gemstones. Bofur stood alongside me, and when I glanced at him I found he had been staring at me with as much wonder as I had for the natural beauty of the cave. I smiled self-consciously and he beckoned me onward with a small grin.

"Follow the cave along. I'll be right behind you."

I took a few steps forward, the clack of metal on stone muffling and causing me to look down, where I realized that even the floor was covered by a thick layer of smooth, clear ice. After carefully pacing further into the cave I began to weave my way through a few massive ice stalactites and stalagmites, some melding right into each other from ceiling to floor, forming massive frozen columns. Here, Bofur stopped me for the first time, taking his lantern and placing it amongst a collection of the tallest where the flickering lantern light caused their shadows to dance about while sending light refracting around the room. He then tapped his fingernail against a few of the smaller stalagmites growing up from the ground causing unusual, yet lovely, muted chimes to fill the air as the vibrations travelled through the pure ice structures.

Bofur then guided me into a small adjoining chamber where we had to climb an incline in order to enter a different cavern that Bofur explained was in a higher level of the cave system. He ascended first, and then fed a rope down for me to use. Even with the crampons, the rope was good planning on his part, as without it I doubted I could have made it up.

Here, the ice was thinner, and the air warmer. Stone poked through in sections, and its colourations could be seen even beneath the ice. Up close to the icy ceilings, a million tiny tear-drops hung in perfect suspension where rapid thawing then freezing had locked them in place. Along the walls, rounded ice nodules of varying sizes had also formed due to different patterns of melting and freezing. Bofur stopped me again, to show how these nodules acted as magnifiers to the stone trapped below, showing in perfect, enhanced clarity, the mountain's wealth of gold and gemstones set in the marble.

"Bofur, this place is beautiful." I exclaimed as I beamed at him.

"Close your eyes a moment." he said, stepping towards me with a smile.

I obeyed and felt my lantern being gently taken from my hold. After a moment, two warm hands grasped my own mitted ones and Bofur instructed me to open my eyes. When I did so I could see nothing before me, no movement, no light or shadow, nothing whatsoever. If Bofur had not still been holding my hands, I would not have known he was just before me.

"Only this deep in a cave can you experience total darkness." I heard him say with a slight appreciative edge to his voice. I grinned and took my hands from his, bringing one up close to my face and waving it in front of my eyes. Nothing was detectable. It was absolute blindness. I heard Bofur take a step.

"Does it frighten you?" he asked, and his breath on my face told me he was now closer to me than before.

"Should it?" I responded quietly. I could hear in stark relief the light music of small droplets of water dripping throughout the cave, Bofur's quiet breath in front of me, my own heartbeat in my ears. When his lips finally pressed against mine, it was with perfect precision, and the sudden sensation after being bereft of all senses sent a shiver down my spine.

"This isn't even the best part." He whispered, his hot breath sending a second shiver as he stepped back and, after a final moment of dark silence, flint struck metal and brilliant sparks flared out, catching in the oil soaked torch which blazed back into life. The lanterns soon followed, and with the cave once again lit merrily we made our way further onward.

At the back of the ice caves our path changed to a steep upward pitch. From out of the ice, what could have been an ancient, worn stairway seemed to weave up into the crevice above us. We stopped here to remove our crampons, as from this point on the ice gave way to stone once more.

"How long were the dwarves in Erebor before Smaug?" I asked, curious as to whether this was some lost, unused passageway from another age.

"The mountain kingdom was founded by Thrain the First, in the year 1999 of this age. That puts it at around a thousand years old, though Durin's folk left the mountain for some time between then and now, only returned with Thorin's grandfather Thrór, some four hundred years ago. Then Smaug kept us out for over a hundred years more... so if you're asking how a place as beautiful as this could go forgotten, that's what did it... blimey, I sounded like Balin for a minute there." He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips momentarily.

"You must be getting old." I jibed, which caused him to laugh heartily and swat my behind.

"Come on then, let's carry on. You should have no trouble keeping up with an old geezer like me."

I did have some trouble. In fact, I was beginning to think that going uphill was my nemesis. Yes, there was a 'stairway', if it could be called that, but it was steep, and the steps had been worn unevenly over the long years so one step could be twice as tall as the next. As we climbed, the moisture that clung to the steps to eventually add to the frozen floor below had grown from a trickle to a constant stream cascading down the stairs, but the rough surface of the rock kept our footing sure. Further still, the water had worn pools along the side of the stairs, lazily spilling from one to the next as it flowed steadily downward into the earth. Here, Bofur and I stopped to drink and catch our breath.

"Not much further now." Bofur assured me as he dug out a metal cup from his pack, despite the fact that he had a canteen strapped to his belt. I cocked my head curiously as he dipped the cup into the underground stream and held it up for me to inspect. The water was the clearest I had ever seen, and if not for the line where it filled to in the cup, I would have doubted whether it was there at all.

"Snow from the mountain's peak is filtered through miles of stone before it gets to this point. This is the cleanest water you will ever find in the entire world." I took a sip and was immediately refreshed, draining the cup before handing it back to him.

"We dwarves joke that if the elves had water so pure, maybe they'd lay off the wine a bit." He commented with a roguish smile.

"What about all the ales and beers you drink?" I asked, smiling innocently back at him. He glared at me in mock severity and handed me another cupful before we continued onwards.

When Bofur had promised it wouldn't be long, he hadn't lied. Only another twenty steps and we made it to the top of the climb. The workout had warmed me thoroughly, so it took me a moment to realize that we could no longer see our breath, signalling that the climate here was in fact much warmer than in the ice caves below. The sound of water dropping and echoing up ahead made me eager to see what Bofur had in store for me next. After another narrow tunnel and Bofur once again warning me against head traumas, we exited into another vast cave system which stretched out before us, its low hanging ceilings riddled with stalactites of solid stone suspended over the shores of one of Erebor's large underground aquifers.

Sporadic water droplets from above caused tiny ripples on the glassy surface of the lake, the only movement in the otherwise perfectly still environment. Bofur made his way forward, extinguishing the torch before he busied himself with pulling a thick section of canvas off of what I realized was a wooden rowboat. On the front of the boat, a metal pole rose up to curl into a hanger for Bofur's lantern. After dropping his backpack under the seat in the stern, he slid the craft down the shore and into the water.

"I'm hoping this boat ride is a tad more romantic than our last few..." He mentioned as he held out a hand to beckon me forward. I took it and allowed him to guide me into the boat, taking up a position in the bow of the craft.

"At least this time you don't have to ride in a barrel of fish... and we don't have a rampaging dragon on the loose." I remarked with a smile as I sat down in the stern and steadied the craft.

Bofur grinned then pushed us off backwards before nimbly leaping into the front of the boat. As we drifted out into the main depths, the lantern light shone down over the gunwales of the boat, hit the surface of the water and danced out across the cave walls bringing the whole place to life.

With silent strokes Bofur turned us around and rowed us to the centre of the lake, where he halted our momentum, shipped the oars, and gestured to the light source I had cradled carefully in my lap.

"Put that out." He instructed.

I obeyed without question, and then watched with interest as Bofur raised a cylinder of metal from the body of his lantern up over the glass so that only the slightest glow of ember was being emitted, just enough for me to barely see the outline of his form. He carefully slid down off his bench and into the open bottom of the boat.

"Now come here." he said next, his voice now quiet. He held out his arms and guided me off my own seat, helping me settle with my back against his chest and my knees tucked up - as it was a relatively small area. "Lean your head back on my shoulder and look up." he whispered in my ear. I shuffled down a bit to get comfy and then let my gaze wander to the roof of the cavern.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I asked quietly, as I could see nothing but darkness above.

"Just watch, and be very quiet."

After a few moments of intently watching what I thought was nothing at all, I wondered if my vision was playing tricks on me when a few small pinpricks of light appeared in my field of view. Yet then the entire cave ceiling lit up in a star field of tiny, shining lights.

I sat up with and made a loud gasp of astonished wonder. Immediately all the lights were extinguished and I was left staring at nothing more than darkness once more.

"What the-" I began but heard Bofur chuckle behind me and then felt his arms encircle my waist.

"I said _quiet_." he commented as he pulled me back against him.

"What are they?" I asked in a hushed voice, setting my head back on his shoulder once more and scanning the ceiling, waiting for the lights to reappear. I let myself relax as Bofur's arms tighten around my waist.

"The simplest translation would be...ah...glow-worms." Bofur whispered somewhat reluctantly, as if revealing the source of the lights as a worm would dash the romantic notion of it all. As a daughter of Laketown, and not some highborn maiden, most creepy crawly creatures did little to frighten me (not counting the monstrous Mirkwood spiders), and I was only more intrigued. When I continued staring upwards in wonder, Bofur quickly explained more.

"Insects are attracted to all manner of lights and the glowworms take advantage of that. Most of them up there are probably in the larval stage, they shine the brightest. They spin a nest for themselves and then hang threads of sticky silk beneath them. Then they just wait for their light to attract some food..." Any further details were cut off as the glowworms began to reveal themselves once more, until finally the ceiling blazed with a million greenish-blue pinpricks. It truly did look like a secret portal to the night sky far above us.

This time I remained quiet and simply smiled up at the ceiling - which seemed no less magical even after learning the source of the lights. This place was a sanctuary, pristine and untouched, the perfect, secret home for its shy bioluminescent inhabitants.

"It's funny," I began as quietly as I could, turning my head slightly so my lips were nearer to Bofur's ear, "even after the journey, after being to Rivendell and Mirkwood, the grand halls of Erebor... I think _this_ is the most beautiful place I've ever seen."

Bofur did not respond, instead he gently slid out from behind me and reached to turn up the lantern so that it sent a wave of golden light over the boat and I noticed that the glowworms directly above us winked out in response to the change in their environment. I pushed myself back up onto my seat thinking we were about to leave, but instead Bofur knelt down in front of me.

"I know we haven't known each other all that long," he began, taking up my hand. "but I've made up my mind... a long time ago in fact." His expression grew soft as I stared down at him in slight confusion. "I love you." he went on. "You've brought me back to life... Every single day I marvel at your candour, your fearlessness, and I know you never believe it, but your beauty, both inside and out. Plus you make me laugh." he added with a fond smile which I returned.

"I want to share a life with you, to teach you my language and customs. I don't want you to feel like an outsider any longer. You belong here... and I belong with you." He took up my other hand and I frowned slightly as he looked down for a moment, drawing a breath before meeting my eyes once more.

"Which is why I wanted to ask you... well, you'd be doing me an honour if you'd consider - what I mean to say is..." he faltered but then shook his head slightly. He cleared his throat and then softly spoke my name as he squeezed my hands. A grin split his face and he found his words again.

"Will you marry me?"


	34. An Unexpected Party

"...Marry me?"

The words hung in the air between us.

I forgot to breathe for a moment and didn't even realize my eyes were beginning to water when I suddenly smiled.

"Yes!" I exclaimed excitedly before lurching forward and throwing my arms around his shoulders, causing the boat to rock precariously as my weight shifted so abruptly.

"Yes?" Bofur repeated almost doubtfully, though I knew there was no way he could have misheard me. I lessened my hold on him and sat back, but kept my hands on his shoulders.

"Of course I will marry you." I said, my voice hitching slightly with emotion as I was now somewhere between laughing and crying. "Now come here." I grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him up into a kiss.

He smiled against my lips, placing a hand on my cheek and when we parted he looked at me with such sentiment that I choked back a sob, laughed, and then wrapped my arms around his neck once more to hide my face.

"I can't believe you planned all this for me." I said happily, tears still running down my cheeks.

"You deserve it, and more." Bofur said, hugging me tightly.

I smiled and wiped a hand across my eyes, then at my behest Bofur again dimmed the lamp and we lay back as best we could in the small boat so we could watch the cave ceiling come to life once more. This time, however, my thoughts were loud and I found it difficult to focus entirely on the glowworms' mystic shine.

"I feel I'm in a dream." I whispered after a few minutes of silence.

"A good one I hope." Bofur replied, pressing a kiss to my temple and causing me to smile.

"The best."

I shifted about so that I was facing him, my knees tangled about with his. He took hold of my waist until the boat stopped rocking. I leaned forward and lightly rubbed my lips against his face. As it was so dark I wasn't quite sure where I was aiming, but I felt his moustache and so pressed a kiss against the side of his mouth.

"Your nose is cold. We should get you back soon." Bofur said quietly, but instead of moving to get up he slid his hands up to my shoulders, under my scarf along my neck and guided me to his lips, kissing me deeply and ardently. Before we became too lost he gently eased me back, helping me off of him so that he could step to the front to turn up the lantern.

He paddled us back to shore while I sat in contemplative silence, and then he took my hand and began to guide me back the way we had came.

As we approached the steep icy slope Bofur had lowered a rope for me to climb on the way to the glowworm cave, Bofur smiled and said the easiest way down was simply to slide.

I looked at him incredulously hoping he would offer an alternative.

"The ice is clean. You won't dirty your dress, besides, it's fun." He quipped and then sat down and edged forward. Before I could stop him he pushed off and I watched as he quickly slid down to the bottom, using his crampons to help stop the momentum.

He beckoned for me to follow and I hesitantly lowered myself to the ground, then I scooted forward and pushed myself over the edge. By the time I came to a gliding stop at the bottom I was smiling.

"Alright, that was fun." I admitted as Bofur helped me to my feet and we continued on.

I walked in silence, even though my mind was far from it, until finally I could take it no more and decided to vocalize a few of my thoughts.

"Are you certain you'll be allowed to marry me?" I questioned after working up my courage.

Bofur squeezed my hand. "I don't want you to worry about the details."

I stopped in my tracks and made him turn to look at me in the eye.

"But you know that I will." I replied with a small smile, lifting my shoulders. "I just need to know... Are you breaking the rules? Will you get in trouble? Will we be able to stay here? Are we telling people?"

Bofur chuckled and stepped closer to me, stopping my tirade of fretting. "Don't overthink it." He insisted, pressing my hand between both of his. "Yes I'm breaking a few... old traditions - and I'm sure I'll get an earful more than once in the near future. No, we won't be made to leave... And yes. I wouldn't dream of keeping it a secret." He added with a grin. "Satisfied?"

I dropped my shoulders in a small sigh but smiled regardless. "For now." I said, urging him to continue up the path.

Eventually we emerged into the main hallways of the mountain and after our extended time in the colder mountain depths, the familiar well-used areas now felt positively warm by comparison. I pulled off my mitts and scarf and shoved them into Bofur's bag as we walked.

"Shall we go eat?" I asked when we began nearing our wing.

"Aye, let's swing by the rooms first to drop the pack off." Bofur replied.

After reaching our quarters, Bofur set the bag down just inside his door. He then took my hand and led me to the common area adjacent to Balin's rooms. Before I could ask what we were doing he had swung the door open and pulled me inside.

"She said yes!" he announced loudly, and we were then met with an onslaught of excited shouting and mismatched yells of 'congratulations!'

I covered my mouth in surprise as I saw that the members of the company had been waiting. Tables had even been brought in and set for dinner. Before everyone could take their seats, however, the door flung open once more.

"How _dare_ you all throw a private surprise _engagement _dinner for my_ friend_ without even inviting me!" Méra half-shouted before pulling me into a rough hug. "I had to force the information out of the cooks." she added more quietly as she released me. Then she turned on Bofur, holding up a threatening finger.

"You." she said exasperatedly, taking a step towards him. "You could have _told _me. I could have helped plan things you know."

After hugging him she turned back to me, fussed over my hair for a moment, and then ordered for the festivities to continue, after a place was set for her of course.

It wasn't until the initial fluster of excitement had died down did I notice the absence of Dwalin. I tried not to dwell on it, hoping his nonattendance wasn't personal. I wasn't ignorant to the fact that Bofur's decision to forgo dwarven tradition would not be a popular one, but I had hoped it would not insult our closest friends. It seemed, for the most part however, that the rest of the company fully supported us (even Gloin was present and gave Bofur a brusque clap on the shoulder) and for that I was exceedingly grateful.

I was surprised to find that under the lids of the silver platters was an array of fresh foods, something I had not seen much of as of late. When I remarked on the crisp greens, Balin explained that Bombur had arranged an order for tonight, which was fulfilled by negotiating a trade with Dale for some of the rations the elves had provided.

"Thought you'd be tiring of salted pork and canned potatoes." Bombur said with a shrug when I thanked him for the fine selections.

Soon we were all settled in to our plates and the conversations became loud and abundant. Bofur poured me a cup of wine, another boon thanks to Bombur since he knew I wasn't as keen on the ales the dwarves stocked.

It was only during the second telling of our engagement, when I was elaborating for a few of the dwarves more interested in that sort of thing, that I went into detail about the lead-up to the glow-worm caverns. As I described our descent into the depths of the mountain, mentioning how cold it began to get, I noticed Ori shoot a rather smug look towards Dori, who frowned back at his younger brother. When I finally mentioned the walls of frozen ice, Ori, now several cups in, let out a triumphant 'hah!' and pointed at Dori.

"I told you there were caves of ice in the mountain!"

Dori flung his hands out helplessly. "Well how am I supposed to know that? Besides, how can there be ice and hot springs in the same cave systems?"

I opened my mouth to try and get a word in edge-wise before they continued, to explain that the span of a few dozen stairs was all that stood between the ice caves, where all was frozen, and the glow-worm caves, where it was quite humid and the water had been surprisingly warm, but Bofur squeezed my hand to stop me.

"Best leave it be, dear. The more you put in, the more it burns, if you catch my drift."

By this point they were continuing their argument in quieter tones, so I bowed before Bofur's wisdom and kept out of it.

"They'll figure it out someday, I reckon." Nori piped in from his spot further along the table. "If Dori ever stops cleaning, that is... and if Ori ever stops reading about the mountain for long enough to actually get out and explore it." This subjected him to the quiet wroth of both his brothers, and illustrated Bofur's point perfectly. By the mirthful look on Nori's face, though, I suspected he enjoyed feeding the flames.

"A raven arrived to the mountain today." Balin said, leaning forward to better address Bofur. "A large regiment of Blue Mountain Dwarves is over mid-way to Erebor."

Bofur smiled then looked down to his brother. "Your wife will be among them, eh Bombur?"

Bombur set down his tankard and nodded. "The twins too I expect."

"Twins?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows.

"Aye, Bombur here has twin daughters. A rare thing it is." Bofur explained. "Not identical mind, they're as opposite as could be in fact."

I smiled and was about to ask more about them when the conversation changed course.

"Dís is with them." Balin added, his voice gaining a slight edge.

I noticed Bofur frown slightly.

"Dís?" I voiced questioningly, wondering who she was, and furthermore why it seemed like such dire news.

"Thorin's sister." Balin explained, while Bofur sighed and shook his head. I then understood why her arrival would be a sad one, and Bofur went on to elaborate.

"You've met Dain's wife, seen how she carries herself. Compared to her husband, she's as calm as an underground lake..." He paused and considered his next words delicately. "Let's just say between Thorin and his sister, Thorin was always more like Barís."

"She's going to be furious." Nori stated bluntly.

"Aye." Balin agreed. "She is with the first caravan, the one that left as soon as Thorin took the mountain. They will be here sooner than the rest."

Everyone nodded solemnly but soon the mood lifted once more as a few dwarves began discussing other members of their kin that would be arriving, those they were eager to reunite with.

Dinner continued late and I found myself wishing the night would never end. I helped myself to a fair few cupfuls of wine, I was the only one drinking it after all, and I soon felt my cheeks warm up. Sometimes I would catch Bofur's eye and he would twinkle and I would smile.

Eventually the food was picked over and the barrel of ale was nearly empty. Gloin and Óin left the gathering first with Dori and Ori soon after - Dori supporting his rather intoxicated brother as they wandered out, now best of comrades once more. Nori simply walked over to a couch and collapsed onto it face first.

Méra, though she had kept up with some of the male dwarves in terms of number of drinks, stood up gracefully, her balance still perfect.

"My afternoon tea will be interesting tomorrow, I can't wait to see the fuss the dwarrows will make of this." she said with a grin. "Come to me when you want to start plannin'." she added joyfully, placing a quick kiss on my cheek after seeing my worried expression.

Balin got to his feet after Méra excited.

"Please, stay as long as you like. I have an early meeting tomorrow." he said, he then placed his hands on the table and looked to Bofur and I. "I am happy for you both. Don't hesitate to ask for any help you should need as you move forward." With a kind smile he bid us goodnight and turned to leave.

Then it was just Bofur's kin (and a snoring Nori) left with us and the remaining small stumps of candles.

"One more drink, cousin?" Bofur asked, noticing Bifur had just finished his.

Bifur passed over his cup. "Never turn down an ale," he said with a wink as Bofur refilled it, "who knows if it may be your last."

Bofur topped off his own mug, and by the time he got to Bombur's he had to tip the cask forward to empty the last dregs of liquid. He slid the half-full glass down the table to Bombur, shrugging apologetically, but his brother didn't seem to mind. Bofur then asked me to hold his cup as he proceeded to balance the empty barrel haphazardly on top of the large pyramid of others, ending with a flourish. As he turned back to us, he eyes glinted mirthfully.

"I don't suppose any of you want to climb in, for old time's sake?" he asked as he reached back and patted the top of the pile, causing it to lose stability sending barrels rolling out on both sides of the pile. He winced each time one toppled down with a crack behind him, until finally the last one - the one he had placed - had touched down.

His family broke into laughter, and I did too, and after shooting a mocking attempt at a scathing gaze over his shoulder, Bofur joined in as well. For the first time since arriving at the mountain, I was truly beginning to feel at home, surrounded by these strange, outlandish, wonderfully crazy dwarves that I was growing to love.

* * *

I was surprised and pleased that Bofur led me right into my chambers that night - perhaps his consumption of ale, along with the general blissful atmosphere of the evening, granted him to completely ignore the rigidity of dwarven social allowances without a fuss for once. I, for one, knew the wine I had drunk was making me feel more emboldened than usual. As soon as we were inside with the door, I spun around and all but flung myself at Bofur. His arms circled my waist and he kissed me back with as much passion.

"You'd better watch or you might run me into the ground." he mumbled as I kissed down his neck, my hands helping him out of his coat.

"Well if you can't keep up, just say." I replied with a smirk, gently biting his bottom lip as I tipped his hat off his head.

"I think I can keep up." he answered huskily, grabbing my hips. "The dwarrows, with some of them it's not more than a few times a year."

"Is that so?" I questioned as I hastily worked at untying his pants.

"Aye." Bofur confirmed before kissing me again, his hand moved to begin undoing my dress. "With you, it's so much different."

"Well I am no dwarrowdam." I said with a sultry smile. "And I need you more than a few times a year."

I hiked my leg up alongside him and kissed him with an open mouth.

"Will that be a problem do you think?" I asked quietly, feeling his hand slide up underneath my thigh to hold up my leg.

"Problem? No." Bofur said with a grin and a glint in his eye. "More like a blessing."


	35. A Knife in the Dark

It had been roughly two months since the Battle of the Five Armies - that's what they were calling it, though when I tried to work it out, I thought there had been more than five distinct forces that had fought... but who was I to question it? That would be a problem for the scholars and scribes - people like Ori, and Bilbo Baggins.

In any case, two months had passed since the battle and, though we were all getting back to the tedium of our daily lives, I continued to undergo my duties with a bit more spring in my step after becoming engaged to Bofur. During my down time, I cast happy glances at my dwarf whenever I saw him. Nevertheless, I was resigning myself to being in a long-term engagement, as we were both so busy that we could find no time to plan. Truthfully, I knew there wouldn't likely be any time to devote to such things until Erebor was more stable, both structurally and politically.

One evening I was stopped by one of Dain's pages just as I was finishing up my last meal of the day. The young dwarf (who was likely older than I) tentatively handed me a scroll, yet when I unrolled it I was somewhat perplexed to see it was written in runes. The page was already some paces gone, but I hastily chased him down and then asked him to read it out to me. He took the scroll with a frown and studied it for a moment before explaining that a messenger had arrived under an hour ago heralding the expected arrival of the first incoming caravans from the Blue Mountains the following morning. As many of the dignitaries and well-to-do families were travelling with said caravan, King Dain humbly requested that all (surviving) members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield be present to welcome the arrivals at an assemblage in the entry hall, and were thereafter invited to sit at a head table during the subsequent feast that evening.

I remembered Bilbo showing me a copy of his contract with the dwarves once, and I could now see that their scribes had a tendency towards over-complicating their documents. Still, as much as I wanted to apologize to the poor dwarf for him having to read me all the fine print, I thought a more formal response would be better suited. I cleared my throat, and then gave it my best shot as he quickly fished out a quill and ink bottle to write my reply.

"Please inform King Dain Ironfoot that it would be my honour to attend the arrival of said dignitaries, and that I will be doing so in the company of my intended, Bofur, also a member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. We would also be delighted to partake of the... festivities... that night." I cut the formalities short, as the dwarf was looking as though he would fling himself into the nearest forge if he was forced to listen to another high-borne noble prattle on in such a self-conceited fashion.

"I'm sorry." I stated hurriedly, "Yes on both counts. Thank you for your time."

He smiled a sardonic, but somewhat thankful grin while marking a quick note on the back of the invitation, and then he rushed off without a backwards glance.

* * *

I had asked Balin to knock on my door early the next morning (I knew his duties often had him rising before dawn) so that I'd have time to get somewhat presentable before the caravan arrived. I spent some time trying to choose between the few articles of clothing I owned, eventually deciding upon the second dress Méra had fashioned me for the coronation, and pulling my hair into some semblance of dignity worthy of such esteemed dwarves. What I really, truly did the whole time, though, was fret. I was worried about making a good first impression on Dís in particular. As the mother and sister of some of the only friends I ever had in my adult life, I wanted to be worthy in her eyes, and to honour the choice of her sons in trusting and befriending me even when there had been nothing compelling them to do so but the goodness of their own hearts.

I was glad to have spent what time I did preparing for the arrival. When we reached the entry hall, we joined the rest of the company members to one side of Dain and his family. Across from us, Dain's advisors and military leaders were starting to take on some familiarity as we all faced off with each other at every formal occasion. Méra waved at me from the king's side, where she and her mother were both sporting new dresses for the occasion - naturally. I waved back, feeling somewhat self-conscious in my reused attire. I noticed Barís glance at her husband and then begin to fuss with his beard, which made me smile a little.

"I look fine, woman, leave me be!" Dain admonished loudly enough for most of the hall to hear. The queen proceeded to adjust his crown anyway.

Once we were all in position, the procession from the Blue Mountains was ushered in with a great fanfare of horns and drums, one that no doubt turned curious heads all the way in Dale. To the credit of the travel-weary dwarves, I couldn't recall ever seeing a more regal entrance as the lavishly dressed leaders of the caravan made their way into the hall. At the forefront of a larger group of more reasonably dressed travellers that filed in thereafter, was a woman who was unmistakable as a princess of the line of Durin - sister and cousin to kings, mother to princes.

Dís.

She made her way to Dain first, exchanging what I expected to be all the formal greetings of their people in Khuzdul. Surely they had been made aware of my presence in the mountain, and so the fact that they so freely used their language in my midst gave me hope that they might be more accepting of it. Once finished being greeted by the King, each member of the procession was expected to pay their respects to the companions of Thorin, which led very quickly to the encounter I had been nervously anticipating for weeks.

I tried to subtly observe her as she began down the line, feeling my hands becoming clammy with anxiety.

She looked like Thorin. Though it was styled, she had the same long, wavy black hair as he, tastefully streaked with a few strands of grey showcasing her wisdom, and her hardships. She also bore the same straight nose, longer and more refined than most dwarves, which gave her an air of regality. She carried herself similarly to Thorin as well. She knew she was a leader, though she also knew she had to deserve the title, and so walked proudly but as if with a weight on her shoulders. Some of her features, however, reminded me distinctly of Kili and I was slightly entranced, yet also saddened, by her eyes - Kili's eyes.

I watched in sorrow as she came to Dwalin, who dropped to his knees in anguish in front of her. I could not understand what she said to him, but before she could finish he interrupted her, shaking his head before abruptly getting up and striding away from the assembly. Dís frowned but could do nothing more and so she carried on with the formalities.

"Dís. My condolences." Bofur began in Westron after the dwarrowdam had finished speaking with Dori. He placed his hand on his chest, bowing his head respectfully before resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment.

"Ah. Bofur. How do you fare?" she asked, flawlessly picking up on the cue to switch between languages.

"Quite well... considering. May I introduce my intended?" Bofur grabbed my hand and guided me forward a step, telling Dís my name and a quick synopsis of how we had met.

"Bofur. What is this you tell me? Your intended - as in _betrothed_?" she questioned, cutting him off. Her eyes darted to me only for an instant before she looked back to Bofur, who nodded and assured her that she was correct in understanding him.

Dís raised a hand to her forehead. "I hoped you had mis-spoke in the common speech." she said incredulously though her expression was stern. Her next words were sterner. "Bofur, you have had your time with your One. As have I. There is nothing after."

"There was something for me." Bofur replied, his fingers tightening around mine reassuringly. I tried to step somewhat behind him again as Dís glared at us. Kili's eyes had never been so contemptuous and I found the look did not suit.

"If you'll excuse me, I must see if this kingdom is worth the lives of my sons and brother." she said rather scathingly, stepping away and leaving us both rather speechless in her wake.

* * *

I made my excuses and left Bofur's side rather quickly. I was put off by the entire caravan arrival ceremony and felt rather isolated in my hurt feelings since I, alone, had to endure the sceptical, even hostile, looks and curt treatment. No... that was not quite true. Bofur was under rather rough scrutiny as well because of his relationship with me. I was ashamed that I was the cause of any ill treatment towards him. He certainly did not deserve it. Though he never complained, never seemed to let it bother him... and that fact made me feel somewhat selfish since I indulged myself in ill-moods whereas he remained optimistic and cheerful.

I decided I just needed to take my mind off things and so I changed into my work clothes and then headed to the area my team and I had left off on yesterday. I rejoined my fellow workers and we had barely started on a new room when Méra suddenly burst into our midst.

"She's taking the day off. King's orders." she commanded loudly as she quickly veered around the upturned furniture towards me. She grabbed hold of my arm and began to pull me along behind her before I could even put down my broom. I hastily dropped it, shooting my co-workers an apologetic glance, just before she yanked me back through the room's exit.

"I've finished it!" she stated excitedly once we were in the hallway, letting go of my arm and carrying on at a slower pace.

It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to but once I did I smiled. "Great timing. I think I'll need it for tonight."

"Exactly my thoughts!" Méra said happily as we walked."It's going to be a great feast, and there might even be dancin'!"

"Where are we going anyway?" I enquired after a moment, now unfamiliar with our surroundings.

"To get you ready." Méra told me, and continued to guide me.

"It'll take the whole day?" I asked sceptically.

Méra nodded enthusiastically. "Plus you're in for a real treat! I pulled some strings, asked a few favours, you know, so now we have leave to use the King's Bath for the day. You'll love it!"

I glanced at Méra about to ask why, but she continued chatting away.

"Dwarves have been thought to be unsanitary because we live under the earth, but really we do have the nicest bathroom facilities in Middle Earth. Our hot water is piped up from the deep underground mineral springs and, well _you_ know, we have perfectly functioning plumbing. The King's Bath - it's in the heart of the mountain - is carved of the purest marble, polished to a shine, and it's _huge_, you'll see. The acoustics are fantastic; I do all my best singing there, you know."

I couldn't tell if she was serious or joking about the last part, but before I could ask anything further we had turned out onto a bridge of stone suspended between rows of goliath dwarven statues. I looked down over the edge, and sure enough we were above the deep expanse of Erebor. Ahead of us, the bridge came to an intersection, and at the intersection there was the profile of a throne, badly scarred during the dragon's occupation, facing off in what I guessed to be the direction of Erebor's entrance. I was curious, but before we even reached the intersection Méra veered off down a set of stairs.

"Come on, we'll take the servant's entrance - much faster."

We travelled down a narrow hallway, passing kitchens and storerooms on either side, until finally we took a branching corridor into a small plumbing chamber where I could hear water flowing through in a series of metal pipes.

"The water from the springs is too hot, so we mix it with water from the aquifers... hopefully it isn't still too hot for your delicate human skin now." She jibed, before carrying on into the King's Baths.

I looked about in awe as we entered a vaulted chamber. Its walls and ceiling were hewn from the glossy marble and intricately carved, set with silver, gold, and mosaics of rich gems. I gaped down at what wasn't so much a bath, but a large, beautiful pool of steaming water set into the floor. It could probably seat at least thirty people around the edge, with enough room in the middle to float a Laketown barge. I noticed a design of gold filigree patterning the edges of the pool, and as we drew closer I noticed that the basin was decorated just as lavishly as the rest of the room.

"Thought we could have a spa-day." Méra said happily after allowing me a moment to look around. "No human has ever been in here, I reckon. Even_ I_ usually have to use a separate pool with the other royal ladies."

I stood awkwardly for a few minutes as Méra went to gather supplies.

"Now, I know humans have some odd traditions, but I don't reckon you bathe with your clothes on." Méra called from across the pool, noting my reluctance to do anything.

She returned with a pair of thick towels in one arm and a tray of brushes, scrubbers and soaps in the other. She hung the towels on one of the many hooks nearby and set the tray at the water's edge before beginning to gather up her hair into some semblance of order. Meanwhile, I struggled past my self-consciousness and began to remove my outer layer of clothing. After all, Méra had already seen me in my undergarments before to take measurements and help me into dresses.

"If I get any of this wet it'll take ages to dry." Méra remarked as she worked at tying back her curls. I took advantage of her distraction to quickly finish disrobing and make for the bath. Any hopes of getting in quickly, though, were dashed the second my toe touched the water - it _was_ hot.

It took some getting used to, slowly inching myself further into the water until finally I lowered myself onto the edge of the pool, and was pleasantly surprised to find that rather than freezing my bottom off in contrast to the water temperature, the stones were quite warm.

"How does the floor stay so warm?" I asked as a stall tactic to allow my legs more time to adjust.

"The hot water coming into the pool takes a wee bit of a detour through pipes just beneath the floor before it mixes with the cold." Méra explained while splashing down a set of stairs into the deeper part of the pool with much less pomp and circumstance than I thought the King's Bath deserved.

I spent the next ten minutes acclimatizing to the bath water. Thankfully Méra, though often outspoken and honest to a fault, seemed to be quite well-mannered in this setting, not seeming to scrutinize my body and often keeping her gaze politely averted unless she was speaking to me. After just relaxing for a span of time, I was tossed a new bar of soap and so began to wash up.

"Use this shampoo, it smells amazing." Mera instructed, slowly wandering up to me. "Then use this afterward and let it sit for a few minutes before rinsing." She handed me two small glass bottles and respectively pointed them out.

I followed her instructions; the liquid shampoo was pleasantly fragrant and was much easier to lather throughout my hair than the hard bar soap I was used to, and the conditioning mixture then left my strands feeling clean and smooth.

I returned the bottles to the tray and inspected the other implements the young dwarf had brought. Much to my surprise, I found a razor and a bar of shaving soap, which I asked if I could use.

"I thought human women didn't need to shave." Méra observed.

"It's for my legs." I stated with a flaky smile, unsure at how she would react to my exclusively human hygiene routine.

Her eyebrows shot up but she made no objection, so I brought the soap and blade over towards the stairs where I could sit partially submerged.

After I began, Méra became increasingly fidgety and I could tell she was trying hard not to stare at me. After finishing one leg I took pity on her and tried to explain that human men seemed to prefer for the women to have less leg and underarm hair so it just became a habit for most women to shave.

"And Bofur likes that, does he?" Méra asked with a smirk.

I glanced towards her with a grin. "Doesn't matter. Bofur and I are still just '_courting_', so you know that we don't see each other inappropriately... just chaperoned hand-holding and polite conversation and what not."

Méra rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh but didn't meddle further.

After another rinse I was feeling far too hot and gratefully left the water, grabbing a towel and handing one to Méra as she exited as well.

After donning my clothes, Méra handed me a large-toothed comb to untangle my wet hair.

"Have you been to the Western guardroom since I last brought you there?" she asked as she did up the laces on her dress.

I shook my head. "No, I haven't been without you... Why?"

"Ganin told me he thought some of the weapons had gone missing." she replied.

I shot her a look. "But it's still blocked from the inside."

"I know. That's why it's strange, really." she stated. "But anywho, I couldn't picture you climbing back up that rope ladder, hauling a bunch of heavy weapons out, and I always keep the ones I use stored there. I was hoping the room would stay our secret for a tad longer, but if someone else has found it, they'll be plannin' to unblock it next."

I frowned but could offer no possible explanation; perhaps her instructor had been mistaken, that guardroom was still just a mess.

We chatted idly a bit longer while my hair dried, and then paused as we both heard a rapping on the door. Méra jumped up to go open it.

"That'll be the reinforcements." she said auspiciously.

She returned with another dwarrowdam in tow who only glanced around the room briefly, making me assume she was of higher class and hence not as shocked and impressed with the splendid architecture as I was.

"This is Kari, my other friend. She'll be better at hair." Méra said, gesturing towards the young dwarf woman. She had black hair that must have been quite long for the braids that looped around her forehead and down around her ears.

"Hair?" I asked.

"You said you wanted to look more _dwarven_." Méra explained with a grin. "And so a good hair style is key."

I had only really wanted a dwarven-style dress, but didn't bother to correct her. It would have been rude to have Kari take time out of her day to meet us, only to then tell her she wasn't actually needed, so I just kept my expression neutral and introduced myself. _Besides,_ I mused, _Bofur might enjoy it._

Kari greeted me casually then stepped up closer to eye my hair speculatively.

"Is this how it lays naturally?" She asked, making an odd face as she experimentally picked up a section of my hair and observed as she let it go.

"Yes." I murmured.

"Oh. Well this should be a challenge." She sighed, picking up another straight strand almost distastefully.

I was guided to an antechamber with what I imagined was a typical nobleman's set-up for daily preparation: an ornate vanity was carved out of the rock, veins of gold and rubies glittering on its polished surface. One of the largest looking-glasses I had ever seen reflected our images back at us, flanked by two lanterns burning a brilliant bright light that outlined my face almost too precisely, making me self conscious. Brushes and shears and combs were neatly arranged on the countertop, and an embellished chair awaited the room's intended recipient. I was so in awe of the set up that it took me a moment to realize that Kari had gone to the opposite side of the room, and was now working at what for all the world looked to be a combination between a small forge and a set of torturing tools. I voiced this observation to Méra.

"Aye, don't they look frightening?" She commented while guiding me to sit in the chair. "Durin's beard, am I glad I've never had to use 'em."

"You've never...? What is it all for, exactly?" I asked hesitantly.

"Bless you, no - they're for curling hair! I've never quite had that problem, mind." She fretted at her own tumbles of hair in the mirror with a bit of a frown. "Ah - this is a tame day for me, truth be told." she added. "You should see the filth I need to put in it on the days when it's misbehavin' - that's the real torture."

Kari approached after a few moments wheeling a small cart, on which was a large iron bowl full of glowing red-hot solid metal cylinders, and basket of hollow steel tubes that were adorned with tiny spikes along the outer surface.

"Good luck!" Méra piqued in with a small laugh after seeing my nervous expression.

Kari, who was wearing a thick leather glove on one hand, took a section of my hair and wound it around one of the tubes, its prickly texture allowing it to hold into my hair on its own. After it was in place, she grabbed a pair of tongs, picked up a cylinder of heated metal and carefully placed it inside the hollow tube now affixed precariously close to my scalp. I desperately hoped she had a steady-hand, yet she proved herself capable, finishing the rest of my hair without managing to give me a second-degree burn.

I was mostly ignored as the hot rollers cooled, while Méra and her friend exchanged stories about another dwarf I did not know. Finally, just as my head was beginning to become unbearably sore from holding up so much extra weight, Kari got up and came to remove them.

I watched my reflection with interest as my hair, previously sporting just the slightest wave, was released and loopy curls now fell just past my shoulders. I was surprised I quite enjoyed the look of them. My hair appeared a lot more voluminous and every small movement of my head caused the curls to bounce about rather happily.

"Are we done?" I asked, moving to stand up only to be pushed back down onto the chair by my shoulders.

"We've _barely _begun." Kari said with a huff, and with that she spun the chair around so I could no longer watch the progress in the mirror.

After over an hour of some of the worst agony my scalp had ever endured as my hair was excessively back-combed, tugged on, tightly braided and generally abused, Kari dropped her hands and let out an exasperated breath.

"It's the best I can do." Kari said, stepping round to face me and inspect her work. She nodded once and called Méra forward to come look.

"Not bad." Méra said, smiling and nodding as well. "Actually quite good considering..."

"May I see now?" I asked as politely as I could, though I was becoming rather cross since the roots of my hair now felt very tender.

"Not yet." Méra said irately, bustling to grab a leather satchel which she overturned on the counter.

I then was ordered to sit as still as I could manage while they applied a variety of cosmetic concoctions to my face - not as easy task when Méra began trying to work around my eyes, causing them to instantly water, especially when she was accidentally nudged by Kari and proceeded to jab my eyeball with a small brush.

I yelped and recoiled, my hand over my eye.

"Sorry! But stop now! You're going to ruin what we've done already!" Méra half-shouted, tugging my hand back down and forcing me to sit proper once more.

Finally, after what seemed another hour, and vowing to myself that I would never agree to another makeover again, they were done their cosmetic torture and Méra rushed to grab the dress.

Méra insisted I put it on before I could turn around and look at my reflection. Little did I know of the complicated process that was involved in simply donning a new dress.

It first consisted of changing into white leggings and a light, short underdress Méra had sewn for me as well, this one sleeveless and of an airy cotton material. Then I was fitted into a rigid corset. I felt the air being squeezed from my lungs as I was ruthlessly laced up by Kari. She tugged until I was stiff as a board in the midsection and I knew I wouldn't be able to manage too deep of breaths. Then Méra tied an oddly structured skirt about my waist. I was intrigued to see that at four intervals going down the skirt was a very thin, springy length of wire sewn right into the circumference in order to hold its full shape open. Finally I stepped into the dress itself. It was heavy. And bulky. Yet the craftsmanship was stunning. The fabric was more than I could have hoped for, a light golden rose colour with a slight lustre to it in the candlelight. After holding it up and getting laced up, Méra spun me around to see the final result.

For a moment I was stunned into silence, almost overwhelmed, so I started with the dress.

There was a trim of delicate pleated fabric running around the collar, over the shoulders and down along the stomacher into a point at the base of the bodice just below where the hem of the skirt began. This decorative ruching helped form an upturned triangle shape, made more prominent by the stomacher itself - which was a separate, triangular panel of a more ornate, patterned fabric sewn onto the dress front in order to guide the eye into seeing the waist at its smallest, just above the hips. I was pleasantly surprised by the effect the corset had on my figure, my waist looked much smaller and my cleavage more ample. The neckline of the dress was cut low and straight across, just above where the corset lay, and the sleeves ended just past my elbows in a fancy ruffling of frilly fabric. The bottom of the dress was comprised of at least two layers of overlapping fabric, but because of my gravity defying underskirt, it flared out perfectly from all angles. The top layer of material formed a bit of a bustle over my rear and on each side of my hips to further create the illusion of a much fuller form below my very cinched waist.

I took a few tentative steps forward, feeling rather unsure. The dress was, truly, beautiful, though I felt somewhat unwieldy and worried I would accidentally begin knocking stuff over with my ample skirt.

Then there was my face. I barely recognized it. My eyes were bold. They had been lined with black liquid charcoal along the lash line, and a light brown powder had been applied to my lids. Even my eyebrows had been slightly darkened and sculpted to look more arched. My skin tone had been evened out and my cheekbones emphasized. And my lips... _my sultry, pouty, plump lips_. How they got them to look that way, I could not be sure. I remember them fussing around my mouth but had mostly been trying to tune them out by that point.

My hair I had to study for a good long moment, and even then I wasn't sure I quite liked it at all. It didn't look _bad_, per say, but it was so glaringly different than anything I'd ever attempted to even try with my hair, and I wasn't sure I could pull off the radically new style. It was pulled away from my face in two smaller braids above my ears where they added to numerous other braids that hung in symmetric loops down about either side of my neck. At the crown of my skull a large section of my hair was constructed into an elaborate bun while the remaining portion of my hair hung loose in curls down my back. It definitely imitated a true dwarven hairstyle and only looked slightly off because my hair was just not near as thick as theirs. And though I was still too tall and lacked the plump curves, the whole new image of myself did, in fact, look quite dwarven.

"Well?" Méra asked slowly after a few good minutes of silence.

I smiled apologetically as I glanced at her in the mirror. "It's exactly what I wanted." I said, carefully turning to face her in person. I placed my hands down over the dress; I had never worn something so elaborate, or expensive.

"It's beautiful." I added but Méra caught me biting my lip.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked suddenly, stepping forward and inspecting some of the details.

"Nothing." I assured her quickly. "I just wonder..." I hesitated, quickly glancing at Kari who remained stone-faced. Méra urged me on.

"Is it appropriate for someone like me to wear something like this?" I asked. "I don't want to be giving myself airs, walking about in something unfit for someone of my... station."

Méra snorted and tossed her hair back. "Station? We're all equals here." She grinned but still I looked at her rather seriously and she sighed. "You're fine." she assured. "There's no _rules_ for fashion here. Plus it's not anything much fancier than what even some of the lower class wives are wearing."

I nodded, finally placated with her answer. The dress just seemed ultra-fancy on _me_, since I was usually wearing dirty, ripped work clothing nearly alike to what a beggar would wear. Now that I thought about it, I did recall that almost every dwarrowdam I'd yet seen had been wearing clothing I thought befitting of royalty.

"Well!" Méra clapped her hands together once and smiled brightly. "I think you're ready. Let's bring you out and release you into society where I can watch you blossom!"

* * *

I tried to convince Méra to let me hide out until the feast was set to begin, but she would have none of it, forcing me out of the absolute privacy of the King's Bath and into the increasingly busy halls of the Erebor main.

"I want to show you off myself. I put in most of the work after all." she admonished after bidding Kari farewell and doggedly linking her arm through mine to prevent escape.

I got more than a few stares as we passed by a gathering of dwarves not far from the throne room. I wasn't quite sure if they were much different than the stares I had been receiving pre-makeover, which was slightly concerning since the whole point was to try to blend in.

As we neared the King's Hall, typically one of the busiest areas, mostly due to its large, open size and proximity to the entrance, I was surprised that we had not yet run into anyone I particularly knew, for which I was somewhat thankful. Yet when we entered the hall I inadvertently stopped in my tracks at the sight of a familiar form - a form that happened to be very easy to spot due to a certain height inconsistency.

"Oh no." I mumbled, trying to quickly veer Méra in a different direction altogether. She, however, took that as a cue to stop dead in her tracks and begin to speak very loudly.

"What is it?" She spouted, drawing most, if not all, of the eyes in the immediate vicinity right to us. Then, she spotted the cause of my distress and stifled an amused snort at my ill-luck.

The figure that I had hoped to avoid in my current state, Bard of all people, someone with whom I wished to maintain a good and relatively professional relationship, inevitably turned and spotted us. His brow creased in confusion, however, and it took him a moment of deliberation before finally approaching us. I knew I was blushing even before he stopped in front of us.

"I barely recognized you." he said as his eyes quickly took in my hair, my stylized, large dress and my excessively done-up face, before darting to the dwarrowdam I was arm-in-arm with.

"Ah, have you met Méra?" I asked, trying to remember my manners despite how embarrassed I suddenly felt.

Bard tried to grin. "Ah, yes, the King's daughter. Always an honour." he said to her before looking back to me and creasing his forehead once more. I could tell he felt quite at a loss of what to say next, especially in the presence of the princess and a human dressed up as a dwarf.

"Would you mind excusing us for a moment." I asked Méra, who nodded and thankfully let me loose. Bard, perhaps, just looked slightly more comfortable.

"It seems you are fitting in quite well." he noted, and I grimaced slightly despite myself.

"I don't always look-" I began, indicating to my dress. "-just something I'm trying for tonight..." I trailed off exceedingly awkwardly, then I realized that awkwardness and this new look likely didn't go well together. If I was ever going to pull it off, I would need to play the part. I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders, indicating for Bard to walk with me.

"What brings you to the mountain? Are you here for the festivities later?" I asked as we fell into step together in the direction he had been originally going.

"Ah. No. There's been another collapse. More severe this time." He stated while heading like a man on a mission towards the mountain's core. He was so caught up in his task that while he spoke I risked craning my neck around best I could, without risking my hair style, to see Méra stalking along behind us with a large mischievous grin on her face. I shot her a glare and then looked back to Bard, who caught the tail end of my expression and must have taken it for dismay.

"No one was hurt, we have that much to be thankful for. Just a storeroom, but one that held a great deal of provisions brought to us by the Elves. Much has been lost. I am here to take up the matter with Dain, and to see if the dwarves might help bolster our supplies until the next Elven caravan arrives."

He abruptly stopped at the end of the entry hall, turning around in time to catch Méra wildly ducking behind a pillar with a whoop. I could tell he saw her, since his puzzled expression flickered between her hiding spot for a moment then back to me, before he excused himself.

"I won't keep you any longer - it is good to see you are well, and managing to... acclimate... here in Erebor." With that he looked up once more as my so-called friend made her way towards us. He regarded her in all her energetic glory for a moment, then looked to me with his jaw hanging slightly open before nodding once and striding off, clearly feeling slightly out of place in the presence of such positive high-strung energy.

Méra flounced back to my side with a smile while I stared at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"Did he like your new look?" she asked, blatantly ignoring my irritation.

"I think he thought it was weird." I replied. "And you certainly weren't helping matters." I scolded.

* * *

I spent the better part of the next hour being toted around the mountain, with my best attempts at going un-noticed continually being thwarted by Méra. In that short span of time, and in such a vast space as Erebor, I managed to run into half the company in half a dozen _different_ places. We came across Bombur promptly after Bard, and while he stared at me slack jawed for a moment, he maintained his silence. Óin seemed more interested in my health and recovery than in my appearance, which he seemed reluctant to mention at all. Gloin scoffed and rolled his eyes, which was as close to a laugh as I thought I might ever get from him. Dwalin, as silent as ever, frowned at me from where he had been sharpening one of his axes, and shortly after that Balin complimented the effort, though seemed somewhat distant with his praise.

Ori was the next and, to my relief, final dwarf I recognized on our tour of the mountain. He was labouring under a pile of heavy old tomes, and didn't see us until we were standing directly in front of him. I called out a greeting, and he jumped in such surprise that the books flung into the air. With uncanny agility, the young dwarf managed to catch all but one, which Méra in her own dwarvish grace managed to snatch just before it hit the ground. She returned it to the top of the pile, which Ori now blushed over.

"They've made me the royal scribe..." he explained with some reluctance. "While we were travelling, I kept notes. I showed them to Balin, who showed them to the king, and now they've asked me to write about the battle and what's happened after." He sounded somewhat overwhelmed with the task, and I couldn't blame him. Writing about the madness and death of Thorin would need to be handled with the utmost delicacy. It was only once he got his books readjusted that he looked - truly looked - at who he was talking to again. His eyes widened, and he stuttered out an apology to excuse himself.

"I need to be... to get... somewhere."

I assured him that it was alright, and as soon as he was out of earshot I turned to Méra.

"Do I look that bad?" I was growing suspicious about the reactions of the company, but she refused to believe the makeover was anything other than an outrageous success. I thanked her for the reassurance, but was growing increasingly tired with being the centre of attention. I made my own excuses to finally part company with Méra until the feast, who pouted with mock-severity before heading off to catch up to Ori.

"Someone needs to help the poor lad before he kills someone with those dusty old books."

* * *

Finally I was back in the privacy of my rooms and slowly began to relax as I was no longer under the scrutinizing public eye.

I walked over to the mirror to recheck my appearance. Again I was not used to it, and almost did not like it based strictly on the unfamiliarity. After a moment, though, I began to appreciate that the dress did, in fact, look good. The rosy gold sheen of the fabric complimented my hair and skin tone, and the shape of it greatly emphasizing what few curves I did possess (if only with a lot of help from the corset, the overtly large skirt and the bustle).

I was left no further time for reflection as I heard a light rapping on my door, and while I had already endured more public encounters than I cared for with the new look, I was completely unprepared for the inexplicable assault of nerves I suddenly felt at the prospect of facing Bofur. I hesitated, now a ball of nervous energy because I had decided to drastically experiment with my appearance on such an important evening. I had no idea how he would react. I licked my lips when he knocked a second time. Worst case scenario he would be offended by my attempts to mimic the styles of his people... he might even think I was mocking him.

Yet the outer door clicking open dashed my train of thought. _Of course I never locked the silly thing!_ Bofur called out my name as a question, and I found my worries melting away just upon hearing his voice. I took a deep breath, forced my body to relax, and then stepped out into the sitting area. Even he had dressed up slightly, choosing to omit his characteristic hat and scarf for once, and instead sporting his hair down in nice waves like I preferred it.

When he saw me, his eyebrows lifted up in genuine surprise, his mouth opening slightly. For once, the quick-witted silver tongued dwarf seemed tongue-tied.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked calmly, trying to keep what little confidence I had mustered from deflating.

Fortunately for my pride, Bofur recovered quickly and rushed up to me, placing his hands on my arms and looking me over once again, this time with a smile.

"You look stunning." he appraised after a moment, and then took a step back, formally taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.

My face lit up and I pulled him into a hug, relief flowing through me and relaxing my body. He hugged me back, although gently as if he was worried he might break me. At least I wasn't the only one unaccustomed to such lavish vestments.

"Shall we?" he asked after releasing me, holding out his arm. I nodded, feeling slightly better this time about attending a formal event.

* * *

As we approached our seats and I noticed the head tables now included a large number of the new arrivals. Dís was seated beside Barís, and both the royal ladies looked stunning. I noticed Méra, on her father's other side, sported a new jewelled circlet, but other than that her hair remained rather free.

"Oh, there's someone you should meet." Bofur said, tugging me over to a pillar where a group of dwarves were socializing. I noticed Bombur amidst them, with a heavily pregnant dwarven lady lightly holding onto his arm. They turned to us as we joined the circle. She had perfect, almond skin and lovely, warm grey eyes, creased with laugh lines. Bofur presented me as his betrothed, telling the woman my name. Surprisingly she released Bombur and stepped forward, grabbing onto my hands.

"Might I introduce my delightful sister-in-law, Melvna." Bofur said as she beamed at me.

"I am _so_ happy to meet you, my dear." she said when Bofur was finished speaking. "Bombur has already spoken of some of your deeds and I must say, I am simply fascinated. I do hope we can become friends, as well as family."

I smiled, taken aback by her kind sincerity. "Of course." I replied, somewhat at a loss of what else to say. Fortunately she beckoned two younger dwarves forward, releasing my hands and stepping aside to introduce them.

"I'd also like you to meet our daughters, Bavona and Balvira." she said. "And of course we have another one on the way, though I do believe this one is a son." she continued, placing a hand lovingly on her large stomach. "Poor Bombur didn't even know I was expecting, but I couldn't exactly send a letter, now could I? That's why I insisted on coming with the first faction. It was a faster pace than I'd normally wish to travel, especially considering... but I just couldn't stand the thought of him missing the birth."

The twins were courteous enough but they were not as practiced at hiding their curiosity so they outright stared at me with uncertainty after the introductions. Bavona had a smattering of freckles across her nose and her father's ginger colour hair, though it was braided into a large bun at the back of her head. Balvira, however, had her mother's sandy brown hair, and it was stylized into a plait that hung over her left shoulder. It was difficult for me to judge their age, but in human years they looked to be in their pre-teens.

"Darlings, don't be rude." Melvna scolded lightly, shushing her daughters away when she noticed them continuing to appraise me. "I apologize dear, it's been a long journey and they must have forgotten their manners along the way. It isn't as if they've never seen a human before. You must be terribly weary of being stared at."

I assured her it was alright and then Dain stood up, announcing that the feast was ready to begin as soon as everyone took their seats. I was happy to be seated between Bofur and Melvna, who continued to make light conversation until Dain began his announcements.

"He's welcoming us Blue Mountain dwarves, and commemorating the return of some of the original inhabitants of Erebor that had been displaced when the dragon first took the mountain." Melvna whispered politely to me, relieving Bofur of his usual translating duties. "Now he's telling everyone when to expect the rest of the procession, they will likely arrive at first melt, if not sooner, depends on the winter weather really... and now he's just going over some dull topics, such as living arrangements, work duties and the like, nothing you have to concern yourself with."

I whispered my thanks and allowed myself to daze off until the food was to be brought forth. I was finding it hard, however, to really relax in the ensemble I was wearing. The rigid bodice kept me from slouching at all, and I had to limit myself to somewhat shallow breaths compared to what I was used to. I also couldn't yawn properly, which I found exceedingly irritating as I was becoming quite sleepy after listening to a drone of Khuzdul for the better part of an hour. Finally I saw the servers carrying out the platters, and I was thankful tonight to be at the head table which was always served first.

The meal was as lavish as it could be considering that Erebor had to be storing food for winter, and that we'd already had lengthy and expensive feasting in honour of Thorin's memory and Dain's coronation. I expected the dwarves, however, would be happy simply being served ale and some manner of salted meat, though we were also presented with cooked potatoes, eggs, rice and pickled carrots, plus sweet apple breads with honey for dessert.

Once through, we were directed into the golden floor of the Gallery of Kings, where a few sporadic tables were organized along the sides but the majority of the area was left open for mingling, and, as Méra had predicted, dancing. A small stage had been erected at the head of the gallery on which a few musicians ambled onto and began tuning up their instruments. In the meantime, we idly wandered, Bofur making introductions where necessary. I met Gloin's wife, who was rather beautiful, though she had an impressive beard that was pulled back and incorporated into her hair style. She seemed opposite of Gloin in countenance, however, being quick to laugh and rather bawdy. I also met their son, Gimli, who was in his father's image.

The music began playing soon after, though it seemed most of the crowd wasn't quite ready to take to dancing.

"Bombur's wife is sure nice." I commented quietly as Bofur and I left a group of dwarves that seemed rather less nice at having to make pleasantries in common and interact with a human.

"Oh aye, she's a gem, she is." Bofur replied. "You can always go to her if you ever need anything. She loves to mother people."

As we were making our way to a table to refresh our drinks, a younger dwarrowdam stepped into our path. She had tan skin, and plump red lips, along with some of the longest hair I'd yet seen on a dwarf woman. It was nearly black in colour and, though many braids looped over her head in a mesmerizing style, the free portion of her hair hung in long ringlets that fell below her waist. Her outfit suggested she was relatively middle class - as though she sported decorative ornamentations of various gems, her dress was not much better quality than my own. Her bearing, however, was somewhat snobbish and I got the impression that she thought very highly of herself.

"Bofur." she smiled, dipping her head for a moment then looking back up to him. "I hope that you will promise me a dance?"

I thought I noticed Bofur tense up slightly, yet he remained affable when he responded.

"Of course." he said, then he looked to me a moment before clearing his throat. "Ah, this is Rida." he continued, gesturing towards the dwarrowdam, and then he rather awkwardly introduced me.

She barely seemed to glance at me, but her eyebrows shot up when she heard the word 'intended,' and I saw a very distinct flash of anger cross her features before she caught herself and turned to me with a small smile.

"Delighted." she said, dipping in a tiny curtsy. She then excused herself, though not before flashing Bofur a more genuine smile and vowing to find him later for the dance. As she reached the far side of the party, I noticed a group of similarly aged dwarrows swarm around her like bees to their queen, but before I could see what came of it - the gossip that Bofur was engaged to be wed to a human woman - Bofur was already introducing me to the next new faces, and so I was forced to smile and make small talk as though nothing awkward had just happened.

Dancing started up in earnest shortly thereafter. The musicians, now amply warmed up, struck up a lively tune that must have borne some significance, as almost in unison couples excused themselves from whatever conversations they were involved in and made their way onto the dance floor. The first dance was structured yet sweeping in its motions as partners glided around each other, fleetingly touching arms and hands and turning in time. And though their proportions were so different from humans, they danced the dance with such a rugged elegance that even the human kings of old would have been charmed.

"We could join them, if you like..." Bofur offered, after watching me watch them for a moment while he sipped from a mug of ale. I was quick to decline, however, as the last thing I needed was to make a fool of myself getting involved in a dance I didn't know the steps to. He didn't press the matter, but instead set his drink down as the song drew to an end.

"You'll like the next one, I wager." He remarked lightly, and I couldn't help but wonder if this next dance would be less formal. Many of the particularly well-dressed couples retreated, and yet they were replaced by more than double their number, though these next dancers were less regal. What they lacked in elegance, though, they made up for in spirit, for several seemed to be well into their cups already as they jostled out onto the golden dance floor.

The music started slowly, a single flute sounding out the first few mystical notes, and as the dancers formed a haphazard ring I noticed a lone pair of dwarves in the centre. One was a dwarf I did not recognize, young and strong and quick on his feet. The other was a dwarrowdam that I wasn't surprised at all had found her way into the centre of attention.

"Méra - figures." I mumbled with a wry smile.

The flutist continued his slow revere, and Méra and her companion began a slow, whirling dance within the centre of the circle. As they moved, Bofur explained.

"Ancient legend tells of one Durin the Sixth's younger sons falling in love with a beautiful dwarrowdam from another kingdom, but her heart would not be swayed by love, nor great wealth. Not even the prince's family name could convince her of his worth. What's more, his father would not have their family line crossed with the likes of another clan..."

As he spoke, their actions reflected their motions - the 'prince' tried everything to convince Méra to be with him, and Méra, who hardly even had to act at all, refused every advance. As the dwarf moved about, trying to be bold, trying to be friendly, trying to make her laugh, I was suddenly aware of how tight my chest had grown, and not just from the corset.

"That should be Kili or Fili..." I mumbled softly, and Bofur wrapped an arm around me to comfort me.

"You're right, love. It should be." he agreed, and stood by me while the dance carried on.

"The dwarrowdam, believing her life should be put to some use, took up the sword and joined an order of female warriors - something that's long since been extinct. The prince followed her far and wide, despite his father's wishes."

I was somewhat roused from my grieving as the music began to pick up, and more instruments joined in. Obviously, it was building to some sort of climax as Méra and the prince fought invisible battles, moving in wider and wider circles until they skipped about the ring of onlookers, and while everyone else saw the princess simply playing the part of a warrior through dance, I could see that each one of her quick and flowing movements was something Ganin had taught us. As she whirled past us, she caught my eye.

She was loving every second of it, and I couldn't help but smile as the contagiousness of her pure elation rubbed off on me.

Then, the music changed again. All the musicians took up their instruments now, playing discordant and rising chords. The dwarves about the circle joined hands, and finally the second stage of the dance took shape to me. Breaking out into a lively jig, the musicians set to at a frantic pace. Somewhere along the circle, two dwarves parted hands and the whole ring began to follow a single leader, all still linking hands. Méra and her prince skipped away, and with that the chase was on!

"It's a were-worm!" Bofur shouted over the music and the roar of the chain of dancers, who were all excited to get underway. "The dwarrowdam and the prince led it all through the mountains, carving out a kingdom from the stone."

The were-worm chased its quarry about the dance floor, weaving this way and that in pursuit of the merry couple, but eventually even the large space cleared for the dance was not enough, as more and more onlookers were coaxed to join in by linking up with the tail end of the 'creature', and so Méra separated from her partner and coaxed the snake out amidst the tables themselves, winding through onlookers and around the musicians' stage, and even at one point cutting straight through the group of young dwarrowdams that had so far tried their best to seem above the whole affair.

Eventually, she even brought the chain of dwarves right up towards our table, where with a mirthful grin she beckoned us to join before spiriting off again. I pressed into Bofur as the worm wound its way around the table like a giant snake, hoping that by the time the end reached us we would be forgotten, but that was not to be. As the tail approached, I realized my hopes for staying out of the dance dwindled away to nothing, for it was none other than Bavona and Balvira, Bombur's twins, bringing up the rear.

The pair shouted our names, begging us to join in, but Bofur made no immediate move to leave my side. As touching as his sentiment was, that he would not force me into something I did not want, nor leave me no matter how much he might want to, I knew what I had to do, and so resolutely I grabbed his hand in one of mine, and with the other caught Bavona's, and with that we too were pulled into the were-worm dance chain.

The sheer number of dwarves involved made the entire situation such a hazardous spectacle to behold that I could not help but laugh as we wound around the Chamber of Kings, but eventually even the slow pace began to wear on me due to the restrictions of my clothing, and so I was relieved when our target led us back onto the dance floor. There, Méra was rejoined by the other dancer, who took over the lead of the were-worm and began to weave us through each-other, back and forth, back and forth, until finally the chain degenerated, hands were dropped to applaud the musicians, and a raucous cheer was raised throughout the hall.

I, however, was wholly and entirely focused on catching my breath.

As the dance floor cleared, and Bofur chatted with his nieces, Méra materialized from the crowd, still as spry as ever, though I could see that she had broken a sweat - she really had been giving it her all, it seemed. She seemed fit to burst with excitement, but before she could even say anything she looked behind me with a curious expression. I turned, and saw that Bofur was no longer speaking with Bavona and Balvira, but Rida, who was laying a hand on Bofur's arm. Bofur seemed just as uncomfortable and perplexed as Méra, to his credit, and he turned to face me right away only to start when he noticed both I and the princess were staring at him.

"Blimey. Ah, Rida would like to cut in..." He mentioned as he moved closer to make the conversation more private, his usual bravado failing him it seemed. Rida stood back where she was, smiling a smile that seemed altogether too sickeningly sweet to be real. She batted her eyelashes at me when I looked over Bofur's shoulder to her.

"It might be best if I just get it over with..." He continued apologetically. I frowned somewhat, but then agreed.

"I don't think I could handle another dance quite yet. Go." I ushered him away as the music started up again, and so he sheepishly went to join his dance partner. I couldn't help but be envious of how they moved together, and how well they looked doing so. It was a dance they both were clearly familiar with. I frowned to myself at seeing Rida's face light up as they closely circled each others, palms touching. I frowned even more when the music picked up and it seemed as if Bofur was beginning to truly enjoy himself as well. Méra drew up beside me.

"I don't like her one bit." She stated, and that was all she had to say on the matter before she changed the subject back to how much fun the dance was.

* * *

The festivities went on late into the night, and despite my distaste for ale I managed to drain a few cups to help maintain my confident demeanour. Yet even with my head buzzing happily, by the time we had finished desserts and everyone was mingling up and out of their seats, I couldn't help but reflect on the day.

Dís had been the tip of the iceberg when it came to the dwarves' lack of support in our engagement. If it wasn't a borderline xenophobic opposition to a dwarf-human pairing, it was discomfort in our union after Bofur's previous marriage. The best I realized I could hope for was indifference, and at times I wished that I could disappear with the skill of someone like the hobbit. Rida, however, seemed to stick close-by, and though she shot sweet smiles at Bofur and laughed at his pleasantries, she ignored me with such obvious effort that it made me feel even more uncomfortable than if she had insulted me outright. Bofur stayed by my side, however, for that I was thankful, and when I expressed a desire to turn in for the night, he agreed and escorted me to my chambers.

"So you're going to have to come in and help me out of this dress." I said, leaning back against my door after the party was well and truly over. "Honestly," I added with a smile before he could retort. "I cannot undo the ties down the back... unless you'd rather undress me here in the hallway?"

Bofur grinned and moved to open my door. "Not that it would be the first time you've bared yourself to this hallway." He retorted cheekily as we stepped inside.

Though the dress had become near unbearably heavy, and I was desperate to regain the full capacity of my lungs, there was an even more pressing discomfort that I needed to rectify. I sat down lightly on the edge footstool.

"My hair first, please." I said when Bofur cast me a quizzical look. He took a few steps towards me.

"You sure? Seems a shame, all that work." Bofur began as he came to stand behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"I can't bear it for any longer. It needs to come out, it's really quite uncomfortable." I explained.

I felt Bofur's fingers begin to undo the style and bit by bit I could feel the tension on my scalp begin to lessen. I sighed in relief, my headache lessening already.

Finally the last pinned up tresses were let free, I noticed a few of the smaller braids were still intact, lying amidst the messy curls that now fell over my shoulders.

"Maybe someday you'll become accustomed to the hairstyles of dwarrowdams, or maybe not. You know it doesn't matter to me." Bofur remarked as he ran his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp. I moaned happily and leaned back into him.

I eventually roused myself and stood up, turning to look at Bofur with a smile.

"I must say, the curls are nice." he added as an afterthought, stepping up to me and attempting to tuck one behind my ear.

"Now, the dress." I said coyly.

"Now the dress." Bofur repeated slowly with a grin. He then slowly spun me around so he could start undoing the lacing. Once it was loose, I carefully stepped out of it and the cage underskirt at the same time.

"I need your assistance with one more thing." I remarked turning my back to Bofur once more so that he could help me out of the corset. He stepped up to me and swiped my hair over my shoulder, pressing a hot kiss on the back of my neck as his fingers worked at the lacing. It was rather slow work, made slower since Bofur would pause rather frequently to kiss my shoulders or rub his hands along me, so that I was near quivering with anticipation by the time he was through. When I was finally free of the thing I felt oddly weightless and I gratefully took a few deep breaths. I then slowly turned to face Bofur, my body warm and my eyes wanting.

He simply nodded his head, taking my hand and leading me to bed.

* * *

The next morning I woke up early to find that Bofur had snuck out sometime during the night. I frowned, thinking it a very un-gentlemanly thing to do, yet I had my own agenda to attend to that morning anyway so I thought to forgive him. I was eager to take out some of my previous tensions on the mannequins down in the guardroom. Meeting Dís and a few of the other Blue Mountain arrivals had not exactly gone as I would have wished for. I had nursed a small hope that the dwarves from the mountain ranges of Bofur's homeland would all be more like Bofur - and hence more prone to simply accept me with an easy smile and a handshake. More often than not, however, what I got instead was cold stares and forced politeness in conversation - particularly from the dwarrowdams, and that was the best case scenario. Near the end of the evening, Méra had found the chance to whisper in my ear that she would be setting up a training session for the morning and I figured she needed an outlet after being on ceremony. Today, I felt, would be a lively session as we both needed to vent.

As I approached the balcony that concealed our access point, I had resigned myself to waiting for Méra to meet me. This was not the first time I had been forced to wait, nor would it be the last. The princess, afterall, had a habit of being either very early or really quite late - but Master Ganin would advise patience in all things.

As I stepped out into the cool winter air, I was grateful for the extra layers I had brought. They would be useless while handling the weapons, but while I waited they would keep out the chill. Unless, of course, I didn't have to wait. I felt I knew enough to do some basic routines on my own so I reasoned I should make better use of my time and begin to warm up until they arrived.

There was something amiss about my surroundings as I made my way to one of the surviving bits of railing and gazed out over the foothills to the West. It took me a moment to realize that our rope ladder, which was usually always pulled up and cached in a small outcropping at the end of the ledge accessible via the balcony, was already lowered. I found this strange, as Méra - despite being impatient at times - had grown accustomed to waiting for me if she arrived first, as she knew I wasn't particularly comfortable climbing down on my own. The fact that they didn't wait this time kindled a fire in me which had me touching down on the windowsill in record time. Perhaps it had been a test to get me to face my fears.

The second red flag was that there were no lanterns lit in the guardroom, nor the sound that training had begun. Perhaps Méra had forgotten the ladder down on her last trip, but that seemed especially unlikely given her strong desire to keep the location secret. Another exercise then? Though, I was hardly afraid of the dark after spending so much time in the often dank and dingy halls of Erebor. I made my way further into the room, outlines of weapon racks and armour stands creeping out of the gloomy dark barely illuminated by the beam of light coming from the window.

"Méra?" I called tentatively, taking hold of a sword as I passed by one of the racks. If this was a game, I didn't want to lose it by going in unprepared.

As I rounded one of the pillars, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I sidestepped to match the movement, the pillar between us for a moment, before I spotted the figure before me. It definitely wasn't Méra's silhouette, so my mind leapt to the only other possibility.

"Master Ganin?"

The figure charged, and I brought my weapon up to block an attack that never came. The figure ducked under my sword and continued running, right up to the window's ledge. There, in stark relief against the cloudy skies, I saw an orc.

I took a moment to process, and then I shouted, racing towards it, but the nimble creature wildly scrambled up the rope ladder in the time it took me to get to the opening.

Then it cut the ropes loose.

I watched as my only way of leaving the guardroom dropped down to the rocks far below. My only chance of escape. Who knew what atrocities the orc could cause while loose in the mountain. Even worse, I was sure that in order to get free I would have to break Méra's trust and get someone's attention, to make the world aware of our secret retreat, all because I had been too slow to stop a single scrawny orc.

There was only so long that I could take out my fury on the training dummies before my unstretched muscles began to ache and, in what seemed to be a common trend when I got into a rage, I sent my sword skittering across the flagstones with a few stray sparks leaping up here and there.

After that, I huddled down and sulked, but even then I could only feel sorry for myself for so long before my mind began to wander, as is common when a person finds themselves stranded and alone in a dark room. Unlike most wandering minds, though, mine was coming down off an adrenalin kick which strung my thoughts along a particular course.

The orc I had just sent running must have been the culprit responsible for the missing weapons Ganin had reported, that much was almost certain. What I began to wonder, though, was why it didn't kill me. While at first I entertained the thought that it was simply afraid of me, and fled squealing with terror from my intimidating stature, I realized there was little chance of that - unless of course it mistook me for an elf (unlikely in the heart of a dwarven stronghold).

So, my next thought was that it didn't want to risk leaving behind a big dead piece of evidence. If it was killed, or in turn had killed me, there would be no denying that something was amiss in Erebor. As it was, it may have decided to avoid the conflict and just chance the sighting by a lone woman. My word, after all, may not be taken at face value after spending who-knows how long trapped in a dark, dirty chamber with nothing but my thoughts. So that meant the orc must have had something to hide, but what? If it was afraid to leave evidence, then perhaps some larger scheme was at work.

The days following the battle hadn't been without their share of drama, to be sure. How much of it was connected to the orc was anyone's guess, but my semi-panicked mind latched onto this theory with reckless abandon and I made a mental list of all possible related incidents.

There was the missing scouting parties, who by this point were out almost a month and either discovered a tunnel spanning all the way to the Misty Mountains, or had run into misfortune. Then there was the collapsed aquifer, which gave Dain reason to make demanding requests of Bard, and the collapsed buildings in Dale, which gave Bard reason to doubt Dain. By the end of this list, I was so eager for the theory to be true that I was considering everything from scalding bathwater to spoiled food to missing articles of clothing, basically every inconvenience as a possible orc plot. Yet how would they have gotten in, and how have they evaded discovery thus far?

My conspiring started with our arrival at Erebor. Up until that point, it was unlikely that any orcs would be able to exist within Erebor while the dragon kept residence, so I assumed they must have entered after the death of Smaug. As for when, I reasoned there was a small chance of orcs sneaking in between the arrival of Thorin's party, and the arrival of my group travelling from Laketown after Kili's recovery - which would have given the crafty buggers three days to get in before Thorin walled off the entrance.

Another possibility was that, at some point during the absolute chaos of the subsequent battle, sometime after Thorin charged and around the same time as I took to the field, that some orcs broke through the dwarven lines and took up hiding in the mountain.

Of course, the third and most worrying possibility was that one of the giant wereworms under Azog's command had just gone ahead and broken through into the depths of Erebor somewhere. Yet, if that had been the case, I strongly suspected we would all be long dead and the war would have been lost. In fact, that would have been a _really_ good way to guarantee victory for the orcish legions and I wondered why Azog had not ordered for such a devious strategy to occur.

At any rate, Erebor was so vast and still relatively unoccupied that it really would not be too difficult for a few rogue orcs to keep hidden, and it seemed most probable that perhaps a small troupe had crept inside before or during the battle. My brain was fitting pieces together like stones in a wall and I proceeded to talk my way through events that had happened since our arrival.

"The battle ends, and Dain becomes king. A dwarven scouting mission to the lower levels goes missing, and shortly after that one of our aquifers collapses, taking tools and demolition equipment with it... or does it? Maybe the orcs take the tools and equipment and then collapse the tunnel to cover it up... Then there were the structural collapses in Dale. The dwarves did the repairs, yet Bard's roof falls apart, nearly killing the one human keeping Dale together, and then another collapses on supplies brought by the Elves. Then, the orcs start stealing weapons, which means that they're planning something... something big." I ventured, my head spinning from all the connections it was struggling to make. Still, these random events were seeming less random when the general catch-all excuse of 'orcs did it' was applied.

"Orcs did it!" I stated aloud, and then jumped and screamed so loud that the cause of my alarm, a frazzled looking Méra, was forced to rush forward and clasp her hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I stared at her wide-eyed, and she stared calmly back at me.

"If that's your excuse for not replying to my calls, forcin' me to sneak a rope ladder back from the mines, then nearly giving me a heart attack hiding out down here in the dark, spouting nonsense, then you'd best start at the beginning."

I gave her the quick version first - the fact that there was an orc loose in the halls, which prompted Méra to rush back to the window.

"Oh I wish I would have been here!" she grumbled as she looked upwards to the balcony and then came back and began scoping the room. "Why didn't you kill it? Or why didn't it kill you?" she questioned, fixing me with a hard look.

I scowled and urged her to stop pacing. "That's what I was trying to figure out, just stop for a moment and listen."

I then quickly outlined my theories, and though her eyes widened and she nodded periodically, by the time I was done she remained oddly silent.

"Well?" I urged. "Don't you think we should get going to tell your father? If I'm right, we haven't seen the end of trouble, who knows what they could be planning next."

Méra sighed and ran a hand through her hair - well, she tried to anyhow, her fingers got tangled in her curls half way and she was forced to abort the motion and tug her hand free.

"I think, for now, we need to treat this all with a wee bit of... discretion." she began slowly. "We don't know for certain. It could have been just one lonely orc that got stuck down here, and if so, it will either eventually escape the mountain or be struck down by the next dwarf it encounters-"

"But all those events, the near-misses..." I retorted, becoming frustrated she wasn't supporting my theory.

"That's the thing though, they've all been near-misses, bad luck really, but no one's been hurt. You'd think if orc's were trying to sabotage us, they'd do a better job of it." Méra explained and I slumped my shoulders, perhaps she was right.

"At any rate," she continued, "if we were to go tellin' my father, we'd have to tell him where exactly you were, and why, and then you can say goodbye to ever training again - Not to mention I would probably be locked in my bedroom until my future wedding!"

I nodded in defeat, though I could not quite shake the feeling that this was all more than coincidence and I felt a new concern for what might be lurking in the unused portions of the mountain. I could admit, however, that running to the king might be a bit premature at this point.

"If anything else goes wrong though, I'm telling someone what I saw." I told Méra severally. She sucked her lip in worry, but eventually agreed.

I hoped she was right and that we would hear nothing more of orcs.


	36. The Last Debate

It was with some dismay that I learnt Dís would be housed in the suite Fili had once occupied - which put her in our hallway - which greatly increased the chance of me seeing her again, very soon, and very frequently - as luck would have it.

I made a point of peeking out of my door before exiting my rooms. I did not have the slightest idea of what I could do to earn her respect, and until that time, I wished to keep our interactions to a minimum. I had heard from a few of the others that she was currently spending much of her days in the tombs, grieving over her losses, and though my heart went out to her, I was selfishly relieved that she was well out of my way. I could not, however, avoid her forever, and inevitably one evening we found ourselves in each other's presence.

I had been relaxing in Balin's common room near the end of the day, having just finished a kettle of tea with Ori. The young dwarf had departed to continue his writing duties, but I had decided to stay, hoping that Bofur would poke his head in before I left for bed. I settled into a softer chair closer to the fire and reflected on the past days' events; fortunately all had been quiet in the mountain. Though I knew I should have told Bofur of my encounter with the orc, I selfishly kept my lips sealed so my secret training could continue as per usual. I began to push myself, especially after letting the filthy creature escape, and Méra had heartily agreed to extra sessions as often as we could both get away without arising suspicion. I was finally getting better, and though I could not, of course, match the princess in a duel, nor any other dwarf I was sure, I felt my strength growing. I became confident that I might soon be considered at least competent, if ever I was set against a human of relatively similar stature and background in training - though I knew the chance of finding such an opponent was slim to none.

I sat up and looked over my shoulder as I heard soft movements behind me, hoping to see Bofur, but then quickly snapped my gaze back to the fire when I saw that it was in fact Dís who had entered the room. I slumped down in my seat and hoped she wouldn't look my way, wouldn't recognize me, wouldn't bother me - but my evening had been far too peaceful, and I was not to be granted a moment more of it.

I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the regal dwarrowdam stride towards the fireplace and lightly sit a few seats away from me. I held my breath, not sure if I should acknowledge her or simply flee the scene.

She broke the silence before I could decide.

"There is an old saying of our people," she began and I turned my head slightly to glance at her, she however, was not looking at me, but staring into the flames. "In your tongue is would roughly translate to 'only_ One_ can sway the heart of a dwarf."

I began to bristle, having already been on the receiving end of similar conversations, and not keen on listening to another.

"It is one of our oldest sayings." she continued, still keeping her gaze firmly fixed away from me. "It's frequently cited to prove our loyalty, our fidelity, and the depth of our affections."

I clenched my jaw and stood up. "I'm sorry, I must retire." I stated curtly, though did her the honour of a slight, albeit clumsy, curtsy. Dís stood up as well and subtly moved to block my exit, finally meeting my eyes and continuing her lecture.

"Understand, girl, that dwarves love so fiercely that our hearts, no matter how large, have room for but one love in all our long lives - and oftentimes only our craft will sway our affections. If we do marry, we marry only once... It is known that a widowed dwarf is widowed for life."

I frowned down at her and my eyes inexplicably began to water. I was tired of this.

"Listen." I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I know little of your customs... but Bofur asked _me_ to marry _him_, and I said yes, because I love him, more than anything... and I may not be his _One_, but he is _mine_. If that offends you-"

Dís raised a hand and cut me off, her expression softening slightly. She shook her head.

"No." she breathed. "Love should cause no offence. I am sorry to have upset you."

"It's alright." I said with a small sigh after I had composed myself. "I should not be so easily upset. I know my engagement will anger many."

I sat back down and Dís did so as well.

She studied me a moment and seemed to choose her next words carefully.

"I have heard tell... that my son, Kili, might have formed an... attachment on the journey here." she began, looking to me for any sign of reaction. I frowned before I could help myself.

"I ask you," she continued, her eyes becoming somewhat glassy, "because women seem to be wise to these things. I cannot trust the rumours of men on such a subject... but you were there, you would know... tell me if the rumours were true? Had Kili found love?"

I swallowed hard and looked away, but I could not lie to her.

"Yes." I replied, my voice careful and quiet. "He gave his heart to beautiful woman like no other, a proven warrior, and a captain of her homeland... and I do believe she returned his affections."

I spared a quick glance at Dís who was absentmindedly wringing her hands together.

"And this women... she was an elf." Dís concluded. I nodded, though she did not directly ask my confirmation. She sighed, but seemed more grief-stricken than troubled.

"The world is indeed changing." she said after a few minutes reflection. "I may witness a union between a dwarf and a human... and my own son might have pledged himself to an elf maiden." She then looked at me and offered me a small grin. "We may live to see the day when the races break down their barriers."

She then stood again, and after thanking me for my honesty she bid me a good night and left me in peace once more.

* * *

In the morning, I made a point of going down to one of the main dining halls, feeling for the first time since the arrival of the Blue Mountain Dwarves that I could show my face openly in public without fear of reprisal. My conversation with Dís the night before had an unintentional side-effect, one that was so subtle that I wasn't sure if it was just in my head, or an actual change in those around me. Through whatever gossip mill that existed in Erebor, word seemed to have gotten out of my exchange with Dís, and while I wouldn't have necessarily considered it a positive encounter, it was at least not negative. It seemed that the fact that I was not only worthy of the time it took her to have a private conversation with me, but also that it was civil in its own right, may have swayed the other residents of the mountain to view me with more open-mindedness.

This feeling was upheld all through breakfast, and I thought even my cleaning crew were making more of a point than usual to converse in Westron for my benefit, even if I did not contribute much to the conversations. The apparent good will of the people of Erebor held out until the end of my shift, when, after I had cleaned up and changed clothes, I was heading down for supper.

"You're a joke, you know." A voice rang out just as I passed by a small, open chamber. I faltered in my steps, but then continued with some relief when no one exited to speak with me. The comment must have been for someone inside.

"Do you think you actually belong here?"

I sighed and turned around to see Rida, the snooty dwarrowdam from the dance, leaning on the frame of the chamber's entrance. Two others I didn't recognize joined her and all three were looking at me with extreme disdain.

"Look." I said, holding up my hands and trying to keep my voice polite despite the dwarrowdam's spiteful words. "I don't know what I've done to offend you, but-"

She interrupted me with a laugh.

"You're mere presence within these halls offends me. It offends every single dwarf here, I assure you." She pursed her lips, placing her hands on her hips as she sauntered towards me. "This is Bofur's_ intended_." she explained to her two friends, briefly looking back at them with a cruel smile. "Such a waste, really. Bofur could have had better. I mean, just _look_ at you."

I turned and began to walk away. Apparently, ill-will towards me still festered quite hotly in some, and it seemed I wasn't going to be able to persuade these dwarrowdams to my case no matter how hard I tried. There would always be a few like this, they weren't worth the effort.

Rida continued speaking, though it seemed this time to her friends.

"Pity. She won't be able to give him children any better than his first wife could."

That one hurt like a punch in the chest and I seethed in anger for the inappropriate criticism of Bofur's late wife. I swung back around, glowering at the dwarrows with as much ferocity as I could muster. They all laughed, making me even angrier.

"It is true though." Rida tutted. "Even if it _was_ possible... you wouldn't be able to birth a dwarven child."

"That's... none of your business." I snapped.

"I think it is my business." She twirled a finger round a curl of her hair. "Because if I'd have known Bofur was back on the market... I mean, I would be the obvious choice. I could give him many sons. See, it's not fair really, for you to hold him back... though, of course, nothing is official, not yet." She glanced up at me with a greedy smirk and I realized she was trying to get a rise out of me. Of course it was working - yet I could still just walk away, there was no point in making things worse by starting a full-on conflict with this woman.

I shook my head at her, smiling through my anger, and then turned to leave once more.

"Wait. I'm sorry." The change in her voice made me pause, she sounded genuinely repentant.

I stopped, not doing her the honour of turning to face her. The things she had said would not be forgiven so easily - and yet, I knew better than to burn bridges with such new arrivals. The last thing I could afford was to embarrass Bofur further on my account.

"Come take tea with us." She cooed, walking up and taking my arm. I clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. "I should not be so quick to judge." she said contritely. "I tend to let my words escape me. Let me make amends." She pleaded, a pout forming on her red lips.

I hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. She smiled and then led me into the chamber they had been occupying. It appeared to be a simple rest area, with a few benches, a small fireplace and a table set for refreshments.

I nervously pulled my hair over my shoulder as the other two sat, still eyeing me with some ill-disguised contempt.

"Oh, is that your courting braid?" Rida asked with a smile, stepping towards me and gently picking it up to inspect it. I stiffened but she simply complimented its beauty.

"And yet, it just looks wrong on you. _You have no right to it_." she said with a hiss. I gasped as I found myself held in place by my hair, a dagger drawn and poised at my neck.

"You are a joke. And _this_ is a joke."

I yelled involuntarily as I felt my hair become suddenly weightless and reeled slightly as the dwarrowdam stepped back, holding up both the dagger and the handful of my blonde hair. A large part of me was relieved that it was only my hair that she had cut. My heart was still pounding in fear from having a weapon placed against my neck so soon after the trauma of the battle.

The dwarrowdam made a noise of disgust and dropped the bundle of my strands. Then she bent down and fished my courting braid from the pile. I forced my legs to work, to follow her as she began walking towards the fireplace, brandishing the cut braid at me as she did so.

"Wait. No." I said, reaching out. I simply wanted the bead. That was it. I lunged at her when she moved to toss it into the fire, shouting intelligibly, but I was too late. I fell to my knees as I watched my little courting bead burn.

Eventually I became aware of the hysterical laughter filling the room around me. I pushed myself back to my feet and ran.

My eyes were blurring over as I fled down the corridor. I did not see, but certainly felt, when I collided into a form as hard as the rock. In fact, I almost thought I had run into the wall itself when I stumbled back, but then a hand grabbed my wrist and I was steadied.

I sobbed an apology, barely recognizing a scowling Dwalin, before I pushed past him and carried on to my chambers. It was only when I had slammed the door behind me, sliding to the floor, did I feel I could finally breathe again.

I cried as I reached up and ran my hand through my hair, now ending just above my shoulders. I cried a bit harder when I finally slumped myself to the mirror to see the very uneven chop job the vicious dwarrowdam had given me. I cried more for the insulting comments playing over in my head and the destruction of my priceless, memorable little courting bead.

Finally I was able to calm myself, and when I did I found some shears and tried to even out the bottom. It was only hair, I tried to reason. She could have gotten a lot more than she did. It would grow back... Yet my self-encouragements did little to raise my mood.

It was so strange to have nothing falling over my shoulders or down my back. It felt so _light_ and swung about much more freely. I stared at myself with a scowl. It wasn't terrible... but still, it didn't look great. I put my face in my hands when I heard a knock on my door. The last thing I needed was a visitor.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"You're soon-to-be-future-husband." A cheery response called back.

I tried not to groan. "Maybe not after you see me." I mumbled to myself before calling for him to let himself in.

I wiped my eyes and turned to face him just as he entered my room.

"I cut my hair." I exclaimed with a false smile.

His jaw literally dropped and his expression fell, causing me to grimace.

"I thought a change would be... nice..." I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"Why didn't you ask me first?" he said, his voice dangerously low.

"I didn't think I needed to!" I shrieked, standing up and storming out into the main room, my emotions now fried. "It is _my_ hair after all."

"I was supposed to braid it, for the wedding." Bofur countered as he followed me out.

"Oh, it'll grow back." I retorted vehemently.

"Not fast enough." he insisted and I could tell he was precariously close to yelling as well. "_You don't understand - _you don't know _anything_."

I shot him a glare, on the verge of tears again. "You're right, I know _nothing_, and who's to blame for that?" I shouted, turning and hoping to make a beeline back to my bedroom so I could shut him out. He caught me by the arm and spun me to face him. He sighed loudly and shook his head as I glared at him.

"Dwarves only cut their hair short when they are disgraced, or being punished." he tried to explain, though his expression remained angry.

"Well, I'm sorry." I cried, angry tears running down my cheeks as I yanked out of his grasp.

Bofur threw his hands in the air in defeat, shaking his head.

"You just - you shouldn't have done that! ...There is no way you'll fit in here now." he added sadly.

"What does it matter? I am not a dwarf." I choked out. "And I will _never _fit in here."

We both jumped when my door slammed open so hard I wondered if it was still fully on its hinges. Dwalin stomped into our midst and he quickly looked me over before I could even wipe my eyes.

"Come. You're summoned to a council in front of the King." Dwalin demanded.

"Dwalin... you're speaking..." Bofur commented wondrously, but then his gaze fell to Dwalin's fist which was clenched around a bundle of light, straight hair. "Wait, is that- What in Durin's name is going on?" Bofur asked, looking from Dwalin to myself.

"Now." Dwalin uttered with such severity I nodded despite myself and fell into step beside him. Bofur followed behind, still spurting questions no one was answering.

We made our way down the hallway, though rather than turning and taking the normal route towards the throne room, we continued forward into Balin's chambers. Having never been past the sitting room, I wondered if perhaps we were here to pick up Balin before carrying on, but when Dwalin beckoned us further into the multitude of rooms, I realized that our route continued on through the suites. It made sense that the Royal Advisor would have a shortcut to Dain's quarters, but I never realized just how close the two wings actually were. The usual route involved several stairways, back-tracking and haphazard zig-zags, taking the better course of ten minutes to navigate. This secret route, however, only took us two minutes down a direct tunnel and one flight of stairs. When we exited the stairwell into a room more elaborate than even the royal baths, I knew we had arrived.

Dain was seated on an ornate chair at the head of the room, a few of his guards and advisors, Balin included, stood on either side, looking somewhat ill at ease.

Rida was before him, standing with what I assumed might be her parents. Her scowl was so deep I wondered if it might etch permanently onto her face after this. I thought she would have the contrition to avoid eye contact with me as Dwalin led me forward, but instead she locked her gaze with mine, showing no hint of remorse. Her two friends were present as well.

"Right. Let's get this mess o'er with." Dain announced as soon as we came to a stop. I could feel Bofur staring intently at the side of my face, but I looked resolutely down.

"What has happened to yer hair then?" The king asked and I knew I had to meet his eye as I spoke.

"I cut it." I said decisively.

"Tell the truth." Dwalin growled, giving my arm a small shake.

"It is treason to lie to your King. Tell me what really happened, for Durin's sake." Dain demanded. I glanced at Dwalin then back to my feet, unsure.

Dwalin let out a noise of frustration then stepped forward.

"She's too bloody scared to say. I told you she would be. But I'll tell yeh what happened. I saw her running for dear life to her rooms, so I followed the laughter and found those miserable _rats_ near rolling on the floor, along with this." He brandished the clump of my sheared locks that he still gripped in his fingers. "They accosted her, cut off her hair, with no provocation."

Dain sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Is this true, girl?" he asked.

After a long pause I nodded and saw Bofur hang his head out of the corner of my eye.

"Which one, then?" Dain questioned, his voice becoming increasingly agitated as he gestured distastefully towards the dwarrowdams.

I frowned but eventually cast my gaze to Rida. "Her." I stated. "The other two did _nothing_." I gave them each a quick patronizing look, trying to communicate that though I may be letting them off, the fact that they did, in fact, do nothing, made them just as guilty.

Dain let out another loud sigh. He then sat up straight, looking to either side of him at his advisors assembled there. Though not one of them said a word, it appeared as though Dain had come to some decision, as he rose to his feet burdened by the weight of judgement.

Dwalin, though, was not convinced by the silence of the king's council, and spoke up with one last word. "My liege, this coward sits in your lavish halls, dining on your fine foods and being doted on by those she deems lesser than her, and yet all the while thinks it fair to commit an act of _heresy_, a _hate crime_ against someone who lost everything she ever knew in gaining us this mountain, and who then _fought _and_ bled_ alongside you in defense of it! If that is not punishable by the full extent of our laws-"

"ENOUGH!" Dain shouted furiously, struggling to keep himself under control. "Ten seconds more and I swear..." he spat as he glared about. "We haven't heard more than three words from you since the battle, and now you feel entitled to give me a lecture about my own damn laws! Durin's beard, if you don't let me make a bloody decision, one which I'm sure you'll be at least a wee bit sated with, I swear I'll knock you out cold and give us all some peace quiet. Now then, by my axe, let me do my job so we can get some justice for the poor lass." he commanded as he gestured towards me.

Dwalin clenched his fists, looking for all the world like he was ready to take matters into his own hands. I tried to work up enough courage to talk the surly dwarf down, but lost my chance when an unanticipated arrival burst into the room.

"Why am I always the last to hear about this kind of thing?" Méra demanded as she thundered up to her father. She then whirled around and her eyes landed on me. She gaped at my hair and then glowered towards the other dwarrowdams in the room.

"Who did this?" she challenged, suddenly surging forward towards the guilty dwarrow.

Dain stood up and bellowed something but by that time Méra had already got in a vicious right-hook that dropped Rida to the ground, and then promptly tackled the unsuspecting woman. By the time a guard pulled her away, the dark-haired dwarrowdam was sporting a bloody nose, and Méra had a cut lip.

"Méra, remove yourself or I swear by my forge you'll be locked in yer rooms for a month!"

Méra scowled, nursing her hand, and exited the hall, muttering Khuzdul under her breath as she went.

"_Mahal,_ this is madness!" Dain exclaimed, slumping back down into his chair.

I took a breath and addressed the infuriated king before things could get worse. "My... liege," I began, clearing my throat slightly to be better heard. "I do not know your laws or customs, but I assure you that hair is regarded with much less importance with my people. There is no need for all this-"

Dain held up a hand to silence me, though it was not with the same force as his typical gestures, then he pointed to Rida. "She defends you, though she should not. You do know our laws, so you have no excuse. Do you have anything to say in defence then?"

The dwarrowdam stepped forward, jutting out her chin. "Only that it is a dishonour to have her within these halls. She is a _human_, and if she is allowed to marry one of us, it will forever be a blemish on our proud society."

"But she did nothin' in particular to invoke cutting off her hair?" Dain questioned.

Rida finally dropped her gaze and shook her head slightly, causing Dain to sigh loudly once more.

"You speak of honour, yet we would never treat even an _Elven_ guest with such discourtesy. I cannot understand why you would choose to assault a woman that is not only a resident of Erebor, but also promised to one of our own, and one of the Company of Thorin at that?" Dain shook his head and looked to his advisors who offered no vocal support but a few of them nodded with grim faces.

"I'm sorry but my hands are tied." Dain said, standing up and raising his voice slightly. "I have no choice but to exile you from Erebor for a period of no less than five years. Arrangements will be made for your safe transfer back to the Blue Mountains, or to the Iron Hills if you should chose. If your family chooses to travel with you, it will be at their own expense."

Rida turned to fling herself woefully into the arms of her parents, who both looked as though they had been forced to swallow something unpleasant. I expected they risked dishonour if they showed sympathy for their daughter, but I had been in the shoes of a daughter forced to part from my family, so I knew how difficult the judgement must be. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a gesture from Dain, and a guard moving towards the family. At first, I thought it was to remove the guilty dwarrowdam from the hall, until I spotted a knife in his hand.

_Good... _I thought at first, but as the dwarf approached and prepared to cut the long, elaborate locks from the head of the one who shamed me, the dwarrowdam did not make even one move to stop the further punishment. All her grief was focused on her parents, how she must have shamed them, and how they would be forced to part or leave the home they had dreamed of returning to for so long.

"Stop!" I shouted, drawing all eyes to me, and causing Rida's sobbing to subside somewhat. I hurried forward, my outcry so unexpected or so unheard of that nobody thought to stop me as I laid a hand on the guard's arm, guiding the knife away from the hair until I could take it. Perhaps they thought I meant to do the deed myself, as my assailant began weeping again in earnest, until I dropped the dagger to the floor and turned to face Dain.

"As one who has been separated from both home and family, I know that is punishment enough... Please, let exile be enough in this case." I begged. Dain considered for a moment, and then nodded.

"Fine. She will bear her shame in silence, knowing that it was the very person she hoped to harm that spared her from a more public humiliation. Exiled for five years. You leave at dusk one day hence."

I retraced my steps out of the hall as Dain gave stern warnings to the two friends and I noticed Dwalin following me out.

I turned to face him after the large doors had closed on the unpleasant scene behind us.

"Thank you." I breathed, giving Dwalin a sympathetic look. "For standing up for me."

"You did well in there, though she deserved worse than she got." he grumbled as he offered me my length of cut hair. I laughed despite myself as I tried to pull all the long strands from his now rather balmy hand, but was unsure what to do with it after so just stood there holding it just as awkwardly.

I sighed as I ran my other hand through my existing hair, still unused to its much shorter length. My expression must have appeared much more dismal than I had intended because Dwalin suddenly stepped forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulders in a rare display of affection.

"Evil breeds in the guts of the lazy." he stated as he patted my back once. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug, wondering if he needed it as much as I.

"Dwalin," I said quietly, close to his ear. "You know... it wasn't your fault." I tightened my hold on him even though he stiffened at my words, and I knew that _he _knew I was no longer talking about my hair. "Don't blame yourself anymore." I added softly. "We've missed you."

He pulled away and then looked at me with a somewhat wounded expression before turning to go. I let him leave without another word, hoping he would try to listen, to heal.

After Bofur irritatingly failed to appear after a few minutes of waiting, I began back towards to my rooms, ignoring the shocked stares as I passed a few dwarves by while carrying the length of my hair in my hand. I idly wondered if they were all now madly contemplating what horrid crime I might have committed to warrant such a treatment, and this thought made me smirk, likely adding to my now rather deranged looking self-image.

* * *

Once in my quarters I tucked away my cut hair in a drawer as I was unsure what else to do with it and was not willing to throw it away quite yet. It wasn't long before I heard a knock on my door. I scowled and took my time in answering it.

"I suppose you might be here to apologize?" I asked somewhat coldly, barring the way.

"Aye. This is becoming a bad habit." Bofur replied, though he looked genuinely miserable. "Why didn't you just tell me what happened, love?"

I shrugged, my anger at him ebbing away, and I moved to let him in. I went to sit on the arm on the chair and then looked up at him.

"I didn't realize it was as serious as all that, and I didn't know what would happen." I said. "You have to admit it puts everyone in an uncomfortable situation when it's my word against a dwarf's. I wouldn't have expected her to be punished at all - even if I _had_ wanted to tell."

Bofur shook his head. "Our justice system is a fair one." he replied, coming to stand in front of me and placing a hand under my chin so he would tilt my head up to look at him. He studied my hair for a moment and experimentally ran his fingers through it.

"I'm sorry it happened. I should have tried harder to stop it. I know this will reflect poorly on you." I admitted sadly.

Bofur's expression softened and he placed both hands alongside my face. "No, love. You have done me proud. The way you conducted yourself in there... What you did for Rida was a selfless act she did not deserve. Everyone in Erebor will hear of your generosity."

"I think it's time you explain exactly who she is to you." I said softly, taking his hands in mine and pulling them down to my lap.

Bofur looked slightly distressed for a moment before he nodded and sat down in the chair. "Aye. You're right." he sighed. "She had gone and pledged herself to me many years back, while I was still married actually. As you can assume, it didn't work out so well for her as I had already found... well, I was married at any rate. It happens more often than you might think." he added with a grin and a shake of his head. "Dwarves, they want what they want, it's not really a conscious thing." he explained, pulling me off the chair's arm and down into his lap.

"And after... when you weren't married, you didn't consider her?" I probed.

"Nah." Bofur replied. "It doesn't work like that, I had already pledged myself to someone else, doesn't matter how many after that pledge themselves to me, they are out of luck by then, the heart cannot be swayed."

"Only_ One_ can sway the heart of a dwarf." I repeated the saying _Dís_ had told me.

Bofur nodded and I looked at him, waiting for him to explain the glaringly obvious question I was then left with, but he just looked back at me somewhat kindly.

"Well?" I exclaimed after a moment and Bofur frowned in confusion. "What of me then? Of us?"

"Oh." Bofur chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "I honestly don't know."

"You don't _know_?" I replied dully.

"It's a mystery to me, it really is. I know how I feel though, and that much is certain. I love you. More than anythin'. Maybe I didn't truly know love before, maybe it was something else and I was given another chance to find it... and I did. With you."

I smiled and then reached up to feel my unfamiliar hair once more, then my expression fell.

"I lost the bead you made me." I admitted sadly, frowning as I remembered.

"Did she take it from you?" Bofur questioned.

"She burnt it." I told him wistfully and Bofur tilted his head slightly, his expression showcasing confusion. "She tossed the whole braid into the fire." I explained a bit further after he urged me to.

"That's a tad dramatic." Bofur said with a grimace. "She could have just cut the braid instead of the whole lot..."

I frowned at him, and he looked contrite.

"Better yet she should have taken her anger out on me. It wouldn't be unheard of..." he added with a raised eyebrow, and then he looked at me more seriously but said nothing, and after a moment I began to fidget under his gaze.

"Did you want to wait then?" I asked, looking down at my hands.

"Wait?" Bofur questioned.

"Wait to have the wedding, until my hair grows longer? It will take a while before it's back the way it was..." I trailed off and glanced up at Bofur to see that he was smiling sadly at me.

"No. I don't want to wait." he said determinately, taking up my hand once more and kissing my fingers. "Besides, it still seems long enough for a few small braids."

He then explained that dwarves didn't adorn their hair at all when they wed. Instead they left it completely free and their intended was the first to put in new braids during the ceremony.

"Of course," he added after telling me a few more details, "we don't have to do any of this, if you wanted to follow human wedding traditions..."

"No, that sounds lovely." I stated. "That is, if you're not expecting anything more complicated in your hair than what you have now. You know I'm not good at it." I smiled at him and gave one of his braids a gentle tug. "We can perhaps think about integrating a few human customs," I continued thoughtfully, "but if we are to be married here, then I would like to do as much as we can, properly, in the traditions of your people."

Bofur grinned and nodded and then said nothing more so I shifted and leaned my head close to his neck.

"You don't find me hideous now?" I asked teasingly, though part of me wanted his reassurance after his strong reaction earlier.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me.

"Never."


	37. Smoke Rises from the Mountain

_I was in Laketown._

_Bells tolled. Their panicked ringing mingled with distant screams to fill the air, and from the sky above Smaug wrought his fiery devastation upon my people. The house around me stank of burning wood, and another smell - one far more sinister, which would be ingrained in my memory for all time: burning flesh._

_Things had gone so wrong._

_I was in my home, with my family. My mother, a vision of loveliness in her red dress, wore the silver necklace I had carried with me from the troll hoard half a world away. She was worried about me, fretting about the house and urging me to make haste, to escape the town while I still could. My father was there as well, having returned to us after being away for so long, coming in when we needed him most to rescue us from certain death._

_I was hurried out the back door of our house and across a narrow wooden alleyway to where my father's barge lay moored, laden with thirteen barrels of fish brought from one of the fishing stations where the River Running drained from the Long Lake. As they climbed aboard and beckoned me in, the sight of the barrels gave me the uneasy feeling that I was forgetting something, but before I could turn to look back upon my house, smoke filled the air and I began to choke. I spun around, but the house was engulfed in a maelstrom of fire._

_There, through the blistering heat and flame, I saw Bofur in the top window, gazing out at me with sad eyes and an even sadder smile. Had he stayed behind, so that I could be free? Or had I left him behind?_

_I tried to shout to him, but in a sudden gout of fire and heat, what was left of the house was consumed. I drew in a horrified breath, and another rush of heat and ash filled my lungs. My chest tightened uncontrollably, tears welling in my smoke-blind eyes and forcing them shut._

When I opened my eyes, there was only darkness, but the stinging did not subside, nor did the tears.

I was wracked with coughs as I tumbled over the side of my bed, trying desperately to get low enough to avoid the smoke that I now realized was rolling through my apartments in Erebor. Forcing my bleary eyes to stay open, I oriented myself to the dying remains of the fire, it too choking for lack of fresh airflow, and then staggered and stumbled for the door of my chambers.

Bells were ringing here in the mountain too, and distant shouts filled the air. I burst out into the hallway, struggling to see anything through the dark smoke. The few torches that remained lit did little to cut through the gloom, but from what I could make out, a gathering of dwarves was forming at the end of the hall. Fighting my oxygen starved muscles, I shuffled forwards, and was met by one of the dwarves who rushed forward, grabbing the back of my arm and guiding me towards the others.

"Come on." I heard Dwalin urge as he led me, his voice even rougher than usual. As we approached the group, I did a head count, and noticed a few missing.

"She's the last. We need to go, now!" Gloin urged, but when I turned towards Dwalin, resisting his pull and meaning to protest leaving without Bofur, he answered my silent question before I could ask it.

"He's gone to the kitchens to try to find Bombur. He'll be fine."

Something about the dwarf's blunt reassurance made me believe it, or at least accept that there was nothing I could do to help him now - so long as I wasn't leaving him behind, like in my dream. Even still, as I allowed myself to be ushered away towards safety with a hand upon my back, I couldn't help but look over my shoulder towards Bofur's door with a pang of fear.

We made our way quickly through the mountain, and as we went I became more and more aware of how widespread the problem was. Only in the larger chambers were we given some small respite from the oppressive smoke, where congregations of dwarves were gathering before heading out towards the outer slopes of Erebor. Some made for the main gates, as we were, but others were no doubt heading to the nearest balconies or windows to find relief.

As we neared the main thoroughfare, the air began to thin out, a sign that order was being restored to the mountain. Fires were being extinguished, and what smoke remained in the mountain was escaping through all the little unsealed doors, openings and fissures. While that should have been the end of it, and many of the warning bells had quieted, new ones now rang in their place, accompanied by a distant shout that echoed through the hallways.

_Zimrith ib-bekan!_

"A call to arms." Dwalin stated, and the general pace of the group picked up to a near jog. As we exited into the Hall of Kings, we were met with general disarray as dwarves rushed here and there, though the general direction seemed to be contrary to what one would expect in the case of smoke flooding the mountain - rather than making for the entryway, most were rushing towards the forges. Nori appeared from out of the throng with an armful of weapons, shouting to us as he approached.

"Orcs are attacking the forges!"

Dwalin left my side without a word, grabbing an axe from the pile as he rushed past Nori towards the battle. Several of the others followed, though Óin at least had the decency to stay with me. Whatever fighting ensued, it did not last long. Only moments after the company raced off, the bells quieted altogether, and the overall pace within the mountain slowed significantly.

It was waiting in the Hall of Kings that Bofur, Bombur and Bifur found us. I had relocated to a bench to wait in close proximity to the main entrance, which seemed to be the only place still inside I could get sufficient air into my lungs without feeling like I was going to throw up or erupt into another coughing fit. Even there, though, when I spotted Bofur and rose up to rush to him, I fought and failed to contain an outburst. He rushed to me and put an arm around my shoulders, rubbing my back until the fit subsided.

"There now, love. Here I worried you'd been hurt, but now I see you must be the reason the mountain's clearin' up. Seems you've inhaled the better part of the smoke." He put on his cheeriest smile, though I could tell it was masking worried eyes. I had to keep from chuckling at his desperate attempt to bring humour into the situation, as I feared it would start me coughing all over again, so instead pulled him into a comfortable hug, holding onto him for a long while as life in the mountain began to settle back to some semblance of normal.

When I finally pulled away and looked at him, I noticed one of his eyes had been blackened, and with him being a dwarf I imagined it would take a rather hefty blow to cause such bruising. I lifted a hand up and tenderly brushed the side of it, which caused him to wince.

"Oh no... your beautiful face." I lamented soothingly with a soft smile. "Did you join the fighting in the forges?"

Bofur rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly; stepping out of my embrace and glancing sheepishly back at his brother and cousin, who were shuffling about with similar embarrassment.

"Ah... no... the fact is, we never left the kitchens," he explained, then added "not just because we couldn't drag Bombur away, mind you. Bifur here," He gestured to his cousin. "...found Bombur just before the alarm went up. The pair of them holed up in the kitchens, they've got their own chimney systems so they were a bit less smoky. When the battle started, they armed themselves with whatever they could. Bifur got hold of a rather hefty cast-iron pan, and then I made it to the kitchens. They were both a mite jumpy at this point, so Bifur sort of..."

Bifur tilted his head to one side and took over for Bofur. "I hit him square in the face." He admitted, his grin reminiscent of a nervous tick as it flashed quickly across his features then disappeared. "I'm, ah... still recovering, from my condition." He added as he tapped his gaping head-wound to illustrate the point.

"Oh... Well, no shame in being over-cautious." I said, biting back a small grin.

We all quieted when we noticed Dain and his family stride into our midst. The king was silent, having wandered in quietly from the direction of the throne room. Out of everything that had happened this evening, that was the most ominous, second to the fact that it seemed as though the king's entire royal guard had been called out and were now taking up defensive positions around our small party. Ganin stood close by Méra, who glanced at me and offered a small smile, which I returned. The fact that she, too, had nothing to say became my new most ominous moment.

The king looked up at us all, his face covered in soot and blood.

"We though' it might'a been an avalanche at first, you know, up on the higher reaches. Been shoring up the chimneys and air shafts, haven't gotten to them all though - anyhow, I left the lasses and went to sort things topside. Soon as I left, the mongrels attacked my family. If Ganin hadn't been there, Durin knows what might have happened." He explained this solemnly, but then shook himself from his ill-natured reverie. I studied Méra, who seemed a little shook up but still managed to roll her eyes as her father praised Ganin as the sole reason for their survival. I was sure I would hear the whole story sooner or later.

"Where's your brother?" Dain then asked Dwalin specifically, but continued before there could be a response. "Those schist bastards concentrated their force in the forges - trying to light the damned things and choke us out for good. All this happening at once, they're organized, so here's what's going to happen: take the day to clear up your quarters best you can. At dusk, meet me in my chambers. Come through Balin's apartments, and bring him along if he's kind enough to turn up." He paused for a moment, regarding all of us in turn, and then added as an afterthought: "In fact, best if ye all come. We're going to figure out who's behind this and show them the business end of a hammer! The earth never forgets... and neither do we."

* * *

After leaving the Hall of Kings, Bofur and I made our way back to our wing of the mountain, which fortunately was airing out now that work crews were scaling the mountain walls and unblocking the main ventilation shafts that had been clogged up by the orcs. Several of the others had accompanied us, along with some of the dwarves lodging in the area, but eventually each made their way back into their respective rooms to assess the damage caused by the smoke, or headed off into the mountain to see what could be done to help.

As we neared our hallway, we caught our first glimpse of Balin since waking that morning. He was emerging from his rooms, looking rather shaken up, though when spotting Dwalin among us he tried to regain some composure. The large dwarf rushed forward ahead of us, and Balin took in a shuddery breath.

"I thought... blast it all, I thought it was another dragon." He explained.

Dwalin shushed his older brother and guided him back into his rooms, leaving the rest of us to make our way to our own quarters. I had expected Bofur to part ways from me when we reached my room, but when I stepped inside he followed me in and closed the door.

"My my," I declared as I turned around to face him. "Whatever will the neighbors think? A dwarf and his intended spending time together, _alone_?"

He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway.

"Oh, ha ha. I expect everyone's too busy to have noticed, but who's to say I'm not just helping to tidy up a bit? I'm sure there's something in here for a strong, able-bodied dwarf to do..." He winked, but then moved towards me while rubbing his neck.

"Actually, ah... I wanted to apologize." He explained, his hands dropping to encircle my waist.

"Apologize for what?" I asked, wondering what he could have done wrong.

"When things went bad, I should have come for you first. I promised I would never leave you again, but what

did I do instead? I rushed off to see if I could help - made sure the lads would get you to safety, but that's no excuse - it should have been me protecting you. The only good I ended up doing was lessening Bifur's anxiety some by letting him nearly drop me with a cooking implement..." He looked into my eyes. "I've got someone else to live for now, someone to look out for... And when I lost my last wife, I lost a part of myself. I can't risk putting you through that."

I draped my arms around his neck. "Thank you." I said sincerely. "But honestly I don't begrudge you for trying to help, and making sure your family is safe - of course I'd always prefer you to be nearby in case I need to rescue you," I smiled at his smirk, "but you're a strong chap." I added teasingly, dropping my hands down to his biceps and giving them a squeeze. "Just try not to get your face marked up anymore, I'm the one always having to look at it, you know."

"S'all about looks with you, isn't it dear?" Bofur jibed, pulling me close against him and nuzzling into my neck. "It's a good thing I'm so ridiculously handsome." he growled softly into my ear.

I smiled. "Ah but beauty is fleeting," I retorted wistfully, tilting my head back as he began to kiss under my jaw. "Luckily you're also charming enough, so maybe I'll just stick with you even when your good looks fade."

I bit my lip as I felt Bofur's hands slide down the curve of my hips and around my bottom.

"Speaking of looks," he said softly, pausing his administerings for a moment and looking back up to my face, "you are looking very well lately, love, perhaps being engaged suits you?"

I smiled in thanks at his words. Truthfully it was probably refreshing to look upon me now and not see my skin marred with bruises, my face pale from overcoming injury, my eyes sunken from lack of sleep - but truthfully I had secretly been feeling very self-conscious about my hair as of late. Bofur had in no way had caused me to feel this way, and I acted as if I didn't much care, but I spent more time than I cared to admit half-dressed and privately scrutinizing myself in the mirror at night. My whole self-image, the one constant in my life, had been wildly transformed in a mere moment of time. Along with the hair, and likely amplified in part by the short style, I noticed my figure had begun to change as well.

After a few months of decent sleeping, and regular, rather hearty meals, I had actually managed to put on weight. My thighs were a bit thicker and my hips and bust slightly fuller, plus I had gained a small pudge of fat across my lower stomach. I was still slender, and doubted very much that I would ever have the full figure of a dwarrowdam, but I had begun to noticeably fill out and this added to my new apprehension as well.

Yet it had been a few weeks since my unorthodox haircut and the sharp cut-edge had softened. I was now rather accustomed to the look and actually sometimes appreciated the advantages of the shorter style. I had also begun to train with Méra more often, a few times a week, since my cleaning duties had somewhat petered off now that many of the intact smaller areas were complete. I felt rested, and strong, and confident enough to accept Bofur's advancements.

* * *

After tidying up my rooms, among other activities, it was still only an hour past daybreak - the winter months delaying the rising of the sun as they did. It was the time when any respectable person should have been just considering waking up and setting about their day, but we had already been up for what seemed like forever. Bofur didn't seem to mind, curse his dwarven resilience, but I was already feeling the effects of having my beauty sleep interrupted, and the only thing that could keep me going was food.

Fortunately for us, Bombur had taken it upon himself to prepare a makeshift buffet in Balin's common room for anyone working nearby. The room's ornate hearth was now playing host to several familiar looking bits of camp cookware that the dwarf must have kept in his rooms for just such emergencies (and perhaps to cook himself up a midnight snack every now and again). In any case, I thanked him heartily and laden a plate with as much sausage, eggs, bacon and toast as I could, and then felt guilty and set some back to avoid judgment by the other dwarves in the room, all of whom were likely too engrossed in their own large meals to care what I ate, or how much.

As Bofur and I took a seat, I glanced over my shoulder to listen in on a conversation between two of the guards

nearby, only to be frustrated by the fact that they were speaking in Khuzdul. Too often this was the case, and I was itching to learn more of the language than what I could pick up by mere exposure, but I knew Bofur's hands were tied in the matter. Fortunately, at least when he was around, he seemed willing to translate.

"There's been no sign of those responsible for damaging the ventilation shafts. The repair crews are under guard, but they've not seen hide or hair of orcs since the attack, which means we got them all, or they're back in hiding."

"Bofur, has anyone been hurt? Or worse?" I cut in before he could eavesdrop further.

"One of the young bairns from Dís' caravan tripped in all the commotion and split his lip - poor lad, only about..." He paused and looked at me somewhat awkwardly, but withered under my pointed gaze and continued "Ah... only about twenty or so."

"Anybody _else_?" I asked, trying to move on as I didn't particularly want to linger on our vastly different ages.

"If there were any other injuries, everyone's been keeping them to themselves. Wouldn't be very dwarvish to go admitting your knuckles are delicate enough to be split punching an unarmed, half starved, lanky little orc; 'you don't hear the stones complaining', as the old 'dams say. Since this morning, I've heard more about smoke damage in dwarrowdams wardrobes than I have about bloodshed, actually."

I wondered how Bofur felt about the injury he sported after his encounter with Bifur - whether it stuck out as a badge of shame - especially given the circumstances with which he had received it. As I had already pointed it out once today, though, I decided not to press him further about it, to save him further embarrassment if that was the case.

Bofur seemed happy enough to translate gossip in the common room for a while longer, but as the day dragged on we both agreed that we should prepare ourselves for the meeting with Dain. As we were leaving Balin's chambers, I was a short ways ahead of Bofur, who had taken our plates over to add them to the pile of dirty ones to be sent back to the kitchens. As soon as I emerged into the hallway, I was set upon by a blur of red and blue - Méra grabbed my shoulders and swung me off to one side.

"_Have you told anybody?" _She demanded in a whisper so loud that it really wasn't even worth the effort of keeping it quiet - fortunately for her, I spotted no one in the hallway save for Ganin, who seemed to be keeping a lookout at the next hall junction. When I just looked at her in stunned silence, my brain trying to catch up with the events, she let me go and gestured wildly with her hands.

_"The orc in the training room, do I need to spell it out?! After this mornin', did you tell anyone?"_

Before I could respond, I heard the last voice I wanted to hear at that exact moment.

"Orc?" Bofur asked accusingly, emerging from Balin's rooms with a frown to stop between us, arms crossed. "What orc, and what training room?"

Méra shot me a look between shock and guilt, her whole mood immediately deflating.

"Oh... he, ah... doesn't know then."

Bofur looked at Méra, and then back to me, sizing us up as co-conspirators. I fidgeted under his scrutinizing gaze, but could think of no words to cover up the secret now that it was revealed.

"Will you excuse us, Princess?" Bofur asked, clearly straining to maintain proper decorum in the situation. "My intended has some explaining to do."

Méra bit her lip, looked at me apologetically and then hurried away without another word, glancing back over her shoulder towards me as she reached Ganin. I frowned back at her, watching her go to avoid Bofur's gaze for as long as I could.

* * *

I cringed at the noise of my chamber doors slamming shut after Bofur unceremoniously dragged me back inside the privacy of my rooms.

"Tell me." he demanded, rounding on me before I even had a chance to make my way further into the sitting area.

"Bofur, there is no need for concern-" I began, but he cut me off when he realized I wasn't starting with the explanation he wanted.

"Well, it sounds like you've been lying about something, and something serious at that. The entire mountain was put in danger today, and if it's found out that you kept something secret, something that might have prevented it... well you best tell me now." he said, his voice deep and serious.

I felt a lump form in my throat, his words stinging with deadly truth. I had been a fool.

"Méra and I have been training, just for fun, in an abandoned guardroom." I began softly, meeting his eyes every so often as I spoke, but feeling too ashamed to keep contact for long. "One time I went before she arrived and found a lone orc in there... it escaped before I could get to it, but then Méra thought-"

Bofur surprised me by raising his voice at this point. "I don't give a cold stone what Méra _thinks!_ The fact o' the matter is that I should have been told immediately that my betrothed was threatened by an orc! And, to put the whole of Erebor at risk because, what, your _friend _made you promise? I mean, what were you thinkin'?" He lapsed into a stronger accent as his speech became more forceful .

"The _Princess_ of Erebor made me promise. What was I supposed to do?" I snapped before I could help myself, taking a few steps towards him. "I would think you could relate - you're no stranger to _blindly_ following the orders of your king - your friend - against the will of the woman you love!" I knew that was going too far, and I gasped in shock at my own desire to cause hurt. I froze, and he stared at my stiff posture for a moment, noted my now carefully emotionless face. His face fell, and when he spoke up again I could tell I had knocked him down a peg.

"Wasn't I just sayin' earlier, apologizing that is, for taking unnecessary risks because I have you in my life now, someone to live for? I would never have guessed you hadn't been paying me that courtesy." He threw up his hands and became pacing as he went on and his voice rose once more. "I mean, haven't you had your fill of danger? Haven't you seen enough of death? Do you value your life so little? And what of mine? Do you know what it would do to me if something happened to you?!" he shouted, stopping to look at me. "You have no idea how defenceless you truly are. Your luck will run out. You cannot keep doing these things!"

At that I felt my walls of defence begin to crumble away, and another tidal wave of anger surged up, threatening to cascade over the broken barriers and wash Bofur away. _Defenceless?_ I had beaten _every_ obstacle my hard, crazy life had thrown at me, I wasn't some weak-kneed, prattle-brained silly maiden that feinted at the sight of - Suddenly there was a loud, sharp rap on the door. I stared at Bofur, my scowl deepening, yet at the second knock I spun around and yanked open the door, about to lay into the poor soul who dared disturb us before I could provide my counterattack. Dwalin's equally as impressive scowl, however, caused me to hold my tongue and simply nod curtly when he ordered us to follow him to the meeting.

We all walked in strained silence and I wondered if Dwalin had heard us shouting. If so, it had been the second time in a few short weeks he had broken up our quarrels.

* * *

We gathered in Dain's inner chambers, just as we had the day my courting braid - along with the rest of my hair - had been shorn off. On that day I had lost the physical symbol of my relationship with Bofur, today, however, a small part of me worried about the risk of losing something far more important - his trust.

My anger had only slightly cooled on the short walk through Balin's secret chamber, and I was still irked enough to make sure several dwarves stood between Bofur and I when we took up positions with the rest of the company. If anyone noticed our hostility, they didn't make a point of it; there were far more important matters to discuss. The company was joined by all of Dain's top generals and advisers, most of whom were now familiar to me, but whose names I was only beginning to grasp. Dain wasted no time in getting to business.

"You lot are here because, as of tonight, I don't know who to trust." He started, nodding in our direction. "Anythin' said here doesn't leave this room, on pain of death," He finished this up with something in Khuzdul, which I took to meant 'understood?' as all the dwarves, company and Dain's men alike, nodded and grumbled acknowledgement. I nodded too, and once Dain was satisfied he continued.

"The saboteurs who blocked the air shafts haven't been found." He explained. "As damned hot as it got in here today, out there it's one flake short of a bloody blizzard. Now, at first we suspected it was the work of goblins. Those scraggly little buggers could make it up the mountainside and into the vents easier than naught. Then, we found this." He tossed a coil of rope onto his desk - it had been half burned, as if to hide the evidence.

"One of our trackers found this half-buried on the Southern slopes. Climbing gear means orcs, or - less likely in these circumstances, but still to be considered - humans." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "Based on what tracks we could find, the bastards have made it to Dale."

This revelation caused a stir in those who hadn't heard the news, myself included, and immediately I wondered if Bard had been warned. I would have asked, had Dain not held up his hands and continued.

"There's more. Reports are that the fishermen have been having problems of their own."

For some reason, I felt a little resentment at my people being called that, though it was true for all intents and purposes it still felt derogatory coming from a dwarf.

"They've had wells fouling up, buildings repaired by _our_ stonemasons collapsing, stolen food rations and the like." Dain explained. "So, that means there may be more of them in Dale, and Bard's not made any headway catching them." He paused for a moment, taking a breath before summing up his thoughts."So, here's where we're at. They attacked us in our homes, tried to murder my wife and daughter, and then fled cowardly to Dale, where they join up with another group - who knows, maybe even some of those filthy Easterlings have infiltrated Bard's people and have been stirring up trouble. In any case, something needs to be done about it."

Discussion filled the chamber once the king finished his briefing, and Dain allowed it to go one for a few moments, listening to various comments in Khuzdul and replying in kind. I was left alone with my thoughts, my usual translator pointedly avoiding my gaze from across the hall and causing my frustrations to return to the forefront of my mind.

"We need someone in the city." The king suddenly announced, and it took me a moment to realize he was speaking in Westron once more, which meant he wanted _me_ to hear him. "Someone who can blend in, find them, and then root them out like the vermin they are." His eyes lifted to fix on me.

"Absolutely not." Bofur stated once Dain's meaning sunk in. "She's one of us, and she's earned her place here. She is not a pawn!"

My look of initial surprise turned to an instant glare directed at Bofur - how dare he speak for me? He looked back at me, his emotions hard to read, though his face was stern enough to suggest he didn't want me playing any part in this. I decided to do the exact opposite.

"Why don't you just speak to Bard?" I began cautiously, suspicious of why the task should fall to someone so under-qualified as I. Dain looked at me reproachfully, but remained silent.

"You don't trust him." I accused, stepping forward. Any feelings of shock or worry I had towards the task were quickly overcome by hostility, all the anxiety and frustration that had built up with Bofur whirling about to latch on to a new target: the King. "They have lost _everything_ for this mountain! They fought and died with you!"

"They'd just as soon have fought and died against us with the Elves if Azog's legions hadn't gotten involved! And if I'm no' mistaken, you were among the pointy-eared bastards by the time we started spilling each other's blood."

"I wasn't there by choice - but I would have been, to get them what was owed! I like to believe you would have done the same in my position - or do the promises of a king mean so little to you?" I asked spitefully.

His hands slammed loudly on the arms of his chair before he got abruptly to his feet. He strode forward while pointing angrily at me. "I'll not have my honour questioned by a human whelp who clings to the coattails of a low-class miner with delusions of grandeur!"

The dwarf king was living up to Gandalf's reputation at last: quick to temper - and while likely just as quick to forgive, being on the receiving end of his wroth was momentarily petrifying. The effect was not felt among all of us though. The small assembly erupted in a cacophony of Westron and Khuzdul, dwarves from the company and Dain's entourage shouting and bustling against each other. Bofur, held back by Bifur, was shouting something at the king, who was trying to demand order.

Through the madness Dwalin pushed himself from the wall near the doorway and set a warpath towards Dain, who rose up to the challenge. Smaller dwarves scattered before them, two giants on a collision course, and into all the chaos a more slender figure wove expertly through until it drew up alongside me, positioned between the pair.

"Idribîtu! Takata!"

There was no mistaking the authority in the voice. A strong, feminine voice, whose discordant counterpoint to the masculine shouts had an immediate effect on all present. It happened so suddenly from when the fight began, only seconds prior, that I was still reacting to the onset by the time it ended.

Queen Barís stood beside me, and while she came only to my chin her presence dominated the room. Bofur glowered towards Dain, who was altogether focused on Dwalin, the pair of them still silently challenging each other much as I had once seen Bofur do to Thorin. Dain's wife continued, this time in the common tongue for my sake.

"This is no taproom floor where you may brawl as you please. This is my home. Treat it as such!" She looked from dwarf to dwarf as she spoke, fire in her eyes. One by one they settled, some abashed, others still fuming, but all relenting nonetheless, until only Dwalin and Dain remained in conflict. The standoff continued, everyone tensely awaiting the outcome, until finally Balin approached his brother and placed a hand on the larger dwarf's shoulder.

Whatever unspoken bond they had between them then was enough to end the dispute. Dwalin visibly relaxed, and with a slow turn, during which he shot me a supporting gaze, he strode like thunder from the room. Dain watched him go, and then returned to his seat where he heaved a stressful sigh and sat down heavily.

"Look... At least consider my offer." He asked me, his tone as apologetic as I had ever heard it, yet even then the request held an undertone of command. When he spoke no further, we took it as our cue to leave. I, for one, was glad to escape the awkward encounter.

As we filed out of the royal chambers, Bofur seemed lost in his own brooding thoughts, and did not approach me. Being in no mood to reignite our own argument, I left alone. Balin, however, caught up to me fell into step on our way towards the throne room.

"Don't hold it against him, lass." He started, and then seemed to take a while to consider how best to explain such a malicious outburst. "Dwarven kings have never been known for discretion when speaking what comes to mind, even if they regret it immediately thereafter."

"Travelling with you lot taught me that much, at least." I remarked with a small, tired smile, reflecting on the truth of his statement in comparison to my own experiences.

"You being present in that room tonight, it shows that Dain has more trust for you than any dwarf has had in a human for an age. Before the dragon, the last kings of Erebor and Dale had a lukewarm relationship at best - driven in part by Thror's own sickness, mind you. It goes back further than that though... back beyond memory, since the dawn of the ages, dwarves have always felt at odds with men and elves. Now, old alliances have long since given way, and the chasm between our people has grown so deep that it will take a great deal of time and effort to bring us back together." We had reached the bridge to the throne, and so we started out onto it, side by side. He stopped me after we circled around to the front.

"Give him time and he will come to trust. There is always hope, and you are a part of that."

"Do you really believe we can work - and live - together?" I asked, somewhat doubtfully given the current state of affairs.

"We may yet live to see a day when all the people of middle earth, dwarves and men, perhaps even elves, are united together in the bonds of Fellowship." He nodded to himself. "These old eyes have seen many things, but that - that would crown all else."

With that he clasped my shoulders, smiled genuinely up at me, and then bade me goodnight before turning to make his way off into the mountain's depths.

* * *

I turned away three messengers the next morning in as many hours, each one more important than the last and the final being one of Dain's top generals who recognized me from the battle. Though he surely had better things to do, he did me the credit of asking after my recovery and my current circumstances even after I declined his request to accompany him to the royal apartments. As I bade him farewell at the door, I couldn't help but look down the hallway towards Bofur's apartment.

"We've got a squadron of my soldiers scouring the mines for signs of orc scum..." The general commented, noticing the reason for my lingering in the doorway. "Last report is that he's gone to help."

I thanked him, though I was sure I was scowling by the time I closed the door on him. _Of course_, I thought as my mood went downhill once more, _of course Bofur would be off putting himself at risk, even after promising yesterday that he would not do so again - just because he's angry with me no doubt. _

Following those thoughts, I spent the next little while grumpily tidying my quarters, but not long after the general's visit I was drawn to another knock at the door.

As it had sounded meeker than the last three, it drew my attention, and so I hurried to open it. Méra stood looking somewhat abashed, a look I had never seen on her before.

"Méra?" I asked, somewhat taken-aback.

The young dwarrowdam clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels, biting her cheek, before finally speaking.

"My father sent me..." She explained, looking up at me apologetically. I could see the guilt in her whole body - it made her smaller, less vibrant - but most so in her eyes.

Having had the whole night and most of the morning to cool down, I was hardly going to blame her for coming, or for her small part in my fight with Bofur; perhaps it said something about dwarves, that she came expecting me to still be in a fit of rage. Instead all I felt was somewhat embarrassed that she had been dragged into my mess. I grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, feeling a bit strange to be the impulsive one for a change.

"Oh get in here!" I urged and then shut the door behind us. "The last thing either of us needs right now is to feel sorry for ourselves."

She revived a bit at this energetic response, relaxing visibly and flopping down into one of the armchairs in the sitting room.

"Phew, I was sure you were going to be cross... especially after... well, you know. Father told me you've turned away all the other messengers. That, and Ori warned me against disturbing you after what happened to the first messenger..." She picked up the fire poker nearby and idly prodded the embers beneath the tea pot. I offered her a drink, moving to take the pot of water from the hearth, but she brandished the poker to stop me.

"After the day we had yesterday, we're going to need something stronger than tea."

With that, and before I could object about it being such an early hour, she fished out a flask from between one of the many layers of her dress, where she had stitched in a hidden pocket that I was sure old-fashioned seamstresses would never have approved of.

"I heard him, you know, praisin' Ganin as though he dropped all twelve of the buggers while us wee, fragile maids cowered with fright. Sure, the old man _did _kill half a dozen in the span it took them to draw their last breaths, but mum and I dropped two apiece before he even showed up, and the last two while he was busy with the others."

I allowed her to regale me with specific details of the battle, and from the flush of excitement she had in reliving it I got the feeling that it was her first time being in real combat. Fortunately for her, all the training she had had paid off. Her account of the story, less all her embellishments and exclamations, went something along the lines of this: When the king had left his wife and daughter, they had made their way through the mountain towards the nearest balcony - a location accessible only via the royal apartments. The orcs had been waiting for them there, and ambushed them. At this point, Méra couldn't help but gush at the surprising combat prowess of her mother who, though unarmed, managed to disarm and dispatch the first orc to fall upon them. Méra had retrieved the orc's weapon, and faced off against the next set of attackers while her mother flung her next foe off the balcony - no easy feat in a full dwarven dress. Ganin had arrived then, and in short order the ambushers were routed.

"Gah, ya should'a seen her!" the young dwarf emphasized once more, clearly seeing her mother in a whole new light after the skirmish. Her accent was growing thicker as the night went on and she consumed more alcohol - the only sign of intoxication that I had yet seen in a dwarf. "The best part o' it es, after th' battle, no' one braid out o' place, no' even a single ruffle in 'er skirts, an' she straightens up lookin' all prim an' proper, then _praises_ Ganin for his bravery in dispatchin' all twelve o' the buggers! The ol' gaffer jus' nodded, an' played along when Da' showed up all flustered a while later." She lifted her flask up thoughtfully after retrieving it from me once again, then took a swig. "If I didn' know better, I'd ha' figured she's been trained by Ganin too."

Once she was finished, I told her of my own experiences that morning, which were significantly less exciting than her own. Still, to her credit, she listened intently. I spoke of my dream, and waking out of the dream to real danger, of scrambling to the door (she mentioned teasingly that I must have had a hard time of it, with smoke rising and my being so much taller than everyone else in the mountain), Dwalin coming to my rescue ("Again? If you weren't already with Bofur I'd say you had found yourself a suitor!"), finding out that Bofur had left me behind (that was how I put it, as I was still somewhat cross with him especially after he didn't return this morning and the alcohol only aggravated this), and our eventual flight through the mountain to the Hall of Kings.

Méra was able to catch me up from there, based on what she had heard from her father and through the gossip mill of the mountain. In short order, I knew all about the attack on the forges, and the defense mounted by the dwarves. None of the attackers had survived.

"If ah had ta guess, ah'd say that blighted orc you saw will'no be among th' dead - crafty little one, that."

Bringing up the orc in the guardroom brought me right back to my thoughts about Bofur, and I voiced my worries.

"I told you in my dream Laketown was burning..." I started, and she urged me to go on. "...In the dream, I was leaving the town with my family - the rest of my people. I didn't tell you earlier, but in the window of my house, I saw Bofur. I think I was leaving him behind." I frowned and looked down at my hands. "What if I do go to Dale, and I find that all the frustration of living here - the rules, the stubbornness, the... hostility - what if I realize it's not worth it?"

Méra sat for a long time, looking into the flames of the fire, and when she spoke again it was slowly and with deliberate clarity, emphasizing her words.

"If my understandin' of human love is right, falling in love - true love - with someone you've known for so short a time is rare. I'm not saying you and Bofur aren't in love - it's just that, well, he _was_ the first friendly face you had met in a long time..."

I felt my heart ache, but I found that I couldn't bring myself to stop Méra. If she was going to talk hard truths, I was forced to endure them, but then she continued.

"But I believe you are in love, otherwise, you wouldn't be worryin'. So, here's what I think you should do: Go to Dale; prove to him that you can look after yourself - besides, if he'd of wanted a pasty faced dwarrowdam he'd of had his pick after liberating the mountain - and then prove to yourself that nothing in this world will sway your love for him, least of all a silly, wee argument!"

Roused by her words, and perhaps fortified by the drink, I made up my mind.

So it was that I became a spy amidst my own people.


	38. A Journey in the Dark

We had been fighting. And in between the fighting were even worse spans of ignoring each other so adamantly that those that did not know us might have suspected we had never met - and never cared to.

It began in earnest when I had actually attended a private meeting with the King, along with Balin and a few of the top generals. I was then set up to be instructed by a dwarf I had never met before, a soldier that seemed to know a lot about subterfuge. I spent a few long days with him as we poured over old maps of Dale and went over strategies that might prove lucrative in upending useful information. He taught me more of the Easterlings, and trained me in deceit. We also began the formation of a complete false identity for me to assume while in the city. I was nonplussed by the fact that I was going to be disguised as a young man. I tried to explain that I likely looked more 'boyish' to dwarves than I did to other humans, but my arguments did not prevail and I was set upon to memorize a slew of random facts about my alter ego in case I was questioned.

One argument stood at the forefront of my mind and I hadn't spoken to Bofur since. I had knocked on his door early one evening, hoping to find him in a good mood as I had heard from the King that they had wanted me in Dale within a fortnight.

Bofur let me in with a sad smile and we sat tersely on opposite chairs. Finally I cleared my throat and told him of the confirmed plans.

"It won't be forever." I hastened to explain as I saw him visibly tense. "If I can't find anything, or if it's too risky, I can just come back and someone else will take over... I just think I should at least try. Better to delve too deeply than never to delve at all." I remarked, repeating something Méra had said to me a few days passed.

"Why?" he asked quietly, and I looked at him, perplexed. "_Why _do you feel the need to do this?" he clarified, getting up and placing his hands on the mantle. He shook his head. "Why must you put yourself in danger? Who do you think you owe it to? Are you trying to _impress_ someone?"

"No!" I retorted irately. "I just happen to be a good resource. I can go there and keep my eyes and ears open for anything peculiar without standing out."

"You are _not _a resource for this kingdom to exploit." Bofur replied, turning to look at me. His brow furrowed.

"I am a member of this kingdom, or at least I'm trying to be. You should be supportive of this." I added somewhat sadly.

"I cannot, _I will not_, agree to this." he said sternly, casting his steely gaze away from me.

I huffed and threw my hands in the air. "I don't need your permission." I stated bluntly as I rose from my seat as well and began pacing the room.

Bofur sighed loudly. "It's like you don't even consider me. Do I even cross your mind at all when you make these foolish decisions? Did you honestly expect me to be happy that you agreed to be some sort of vigilante without even talking to me first?"

His voice had risen while he was speaking and I could tell he was trying to keep himself from outright yelling. I stepped closer to him but did not touch him.

"Bofur, _amralizu_." I pleaded, using the khuzdul phrase for 'I love you' that I had begged Méra to teach me.

Bofur looked at me, wounded, and shook his head, yet then he placed a hand on my arm, squeezing it gently. "Amralizi ya." he replied quietly, peering into my eyes. "But I worry my time with you will feel short enough as it is. I can't have you go off and endanger your already brief life."

I bristled at his comment, quickly pulling away from him. He moaned and moved to follow, but I evaded his grasp.

"I didn't mean it like that." he said, sounding rather exasperated.

"Do you think it doesn't bother me? That you will just live on, barely changing, and I won't." I whirled around to look at him, to glare at him, as my anger began to flourish once more. "I think about it_ all_ the time! But then I thought, maybe, if I could use my pitifully _short _life to try and accomplish some good here, then maybe you'll have something to remember me by... maybe I won't be so easy to forget when I'm gone." I was shaking now and my eyes were beginning to gloss over.

Bofur slumped down on the chair, putting his hand to his forehead as if our argument was physically paining him.

"Please, just reconsider this." he said, his words now strangely devoid of emotion. "I'm tired of arguing with you."

"Well, I'm tired of you doubting me." I said as levelly as I could before I strode out of his quarters, slamming the door behind me as I went.

* * *

The day before I was set to leave, I found myself being summoned to the King's Bath and, after a moment of confusion, I realized that I was likely set to begin my transformation into my alternate identity - a refugee from the south, a farm lad named Aldin whose parents were killed by the orc rouges that had escaped the battle.

When I arrived I was surprised to see Méra and her friend, Kari, waiting for me and I wondered just how elaborate my disguise was going to be - remembering some of my discomfort from the last makeover they had subjected me to. The mood was more austere than before, however, and Méra showed me to a trunk of clothing they had acquired and would secretly arrange to have sent to Dale for me.

I riffled through the items, noting some patchy hooded cloaks and a few sets of trousers and baggy shirts.

"You're to bind your breasts, and wear a few layers under your clothing, to make you look a bit more muscular, you know." Méra explained, showing me a bulky sweater. "Now about your hair..."

I gritted my teeth as I looked upon my reflection some hours later. Kari had concocted an ointment from black walnut hulls and a special ink that, after being applied to my golden locks and left to sit for some time, stained it a dull, dark brown colour. It would have to be reapplied roughly every week; they already had a bag safely packed with a two-month's supply.

After my hair had dried, they had me put on some of the men's wear, and then Kari swept up and sloppily tied my dark hair back with a strip of leather.

"Now the final touch." Méra said, stepping forward holding a wide jar containing a black powder and brandishing a short-bristled brush. I realized it was crushed charcoal and shut my eyes as she dabbed it on my face.

I was surprised to see that, with my hood drawn, and with the black make-up that helped me to look generally ruddier and as if I might even have the shadow of stubble on my jaw, I could almost pass as a young man - or at least I didn't come across as a glaringly obvious woman at any rate. I posed myself into a manlier stance, I had been practicing some posturing and movement, and both Méra and Kari nodded.

"It's strange. You don't look like you." Méra remarked.

"I don't feel like me." I replied, stepping closer to the mirror, feeling nervous butterflies in my stomach.

Kari then bid us farewell, even wishing me a curt goodluck, before I changed back into my normal clothes. After washing my face Méra looked at me with an odd expression.

"You'll be fine, you know." she said quietly, handing me an aged rucksack containing my hair colour potions, charcoal powder and the clothes I should wear the following day. She also put a dark folded cloak into my arms, already caked with dried mud and torn in several spots.

"You'll want to look particularly travel worn going in." she reminded me.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"And if you feel like you be wantin' to come back, just come. You're under no oath to stay longer than ye want to."

"I know." I managed to utter. She embraced me then and told me to take the secret short-cut that led from the King's quarters through to Balin's apartment since my departure from the mountain, and plans thereafter, was not public knowledge.

"And when you get back, we'll plan that weddin' of yours!" She exclaimed over-cheerily, now clearly straining to keep up her enthusiastic demeanour as she fussed with folding one of the bits of clothing and dropping it into the crate.

"I'll be fine." I stressed once more, though this time I felt like I was trying to convince myself of that very fact. As I made my way to the exit to the baths, I heard a sniffle, and stopped at the doorway to turn around only to be sent on my way by one final order from the princess.

"I've seen boulders move across flat ground faster than you! Go on, get to bed, or I'll have Ganin haul you out of here by you manly brown pigtail!"

I grinned and nodded and then made my way to my quarters.

* * *

I had just changed into my nightgown when I heard a small tap on my door. I wandered over and creaked it open in order to peek out.

"Oh it's you." I whispered, pulling open the door so that Bofur could sneak in.

He began to say something and then faltered completely, his eyes widening when he took in my new hair.

I smiled somewhat as I quietly closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it.

"You think you'd be used to me experimenting with drastic new hairstyles by now." I commented lightly. He didn't smile and my spirit waned. "It's not permanent." I added quietly with a small shrug.

Again he remained quiet, staring at me with troubled and confused eyes, but eventually he took a step forward and laid a hand on my waist.

"I don't want you to leave here, with your last few memories of us fighting." he said, his voice slow and sad.

"I know. I don't want that either." I said, picking up his other hand and kissing it. "Come here." I urged, taking his hand and leading him back to my bedroom. I had developed an idea, in case he showed up, and was hoping to follow it through now.

"Sit, and could you close your eyes a moment?" I asked, directing him to the bed.

Bofur surprisingly acquiesced without question and I pulled a few items out of a drawer, one of which was the bundle of my long cut hair that I hadn't yet had the heart to toss. I separated a small chunk of it and then turned to Bofur, proceeding to remove his hat and undo his usual braids.

"What are you-" Bofur began, but I hushed him.

I freed a chunk of his hair out from under his temple, detangling it with my fingers and clipping the rest of his hair to the side. With a small piece of sinew and a bit of cursing under my breath, I managed to tie on the chunk of my blonde hair to his. I then braided it into his in a relatively small and tidy plait, especially for my standards. I secured it tightly at the bottom with more sinew and with a small dwarven clasp - just a generic silver one that Méra had a few dozen of and said I could take - I hadn't the skill to craft anything more personal. Yet still I smiled slightly at my work. My nice golden hair weaving with his rich brown created a pleasing and unique contrast. I let free the rest of his hair and grabbed my hand mirror, bidding him to open his eyes and handing him the looking glass so that he could see what I'd done.

"I remember you once saying that a lady could braid her suitor's hair as well." I explained, carefully watching his somewhat guarded expression as he turned his head to better see it. "Since I can't wear one for a while, I thought, this way, at least you'll have a piece of me... the real me." I said, becoming somewhat nervous at his continued silence. "You can take it out though, if you don't like it."

"No." Bofur said quickly, setting down the mirror and finally meeting my eye. "I wouldn't dream of it." He then grabbed my sleeve and pulled me closer. I bent down, placing my hands on his shoulders and pressing my lips against his.

It wasn't long before I made him forget... Forget about his worries and anger and doubts. Forget about our past fights, and my unsuiting dark hair. We forgot about everything, except for the feeling of our bodies sliding against each other, the taste of each other's lips, and the ecstasy of being together in all ways.

* * *

The next morning I found myself awake well before sunup and my mind immediately began racing, filling to the brim with doubt and stemming any chance of me returning to slumber. I snuggled back into Bofur's warm side, the mountain was now typically frigid at night when the fires were low, and I was happy to have a source of constant warmth beside me for once. I noticed Bofur had awoken as well, or perhaps he had never slept. I scooted up and placed a slow kiss on his mouth before nuzzling back down into his neck.

He reached an arm around me and pulled me tight against him, holding onto me with a certain desperation that caused me to cling to him as well.

All too soon I heard a determined rap on my door. I knew it was Balin, ensuring that I was awake. I begrudgingly slipped out of the covers into the cold air and quickly tiptoed to the entrance, opening the door a sliver and promising Balin in hushed tones that I would meet in his apartment within the hour. I rushed back to bed, sliding back under the blankets to warm back up again.

I wanted to tell Bofur that I had changed my mind, that I wanted to stay... that I doubted the whole thing and didn't know what I had been thinking. In that moment it would have even been the truth, but I stayed my tongue because I knew if I voiced even the slightest concern, Bofur _would_ convince me to stay. My silence kept me strong and, though I had taken his hand and was now holding it as if it were my lifeline, I knew I couldn't go back on my word and abandon my purpose. After all, _a dwarf is a dwarf while he keeps his word_, or so I had heard Bombur's wife, Melvna, say chidingly to her daughters.

"I have to get ready." I whispered after a few more moments. Bofur nodded and let go of my hand.

I got up and lit a few candles around the room then shuffled to retrieve my pack of men's clothing. I bound my breasts down with a long piece of fabric that wound around my chest a few times. Bofur had sat up by this point and was watching me with gloomy eyes. He said nothing. I then donned a thin shirt, followed by the heavy sweater, followed by another loose tunic. All the clothes were quite aged and they smelled somewhat worn. I pulled on my trousers and then tied my hair back. I applied some of the black powder to my face and also my hands, making sure to get some beneath my short fingernails as well.

"Seems dangerous to try and pass as a man, you'll be caught." Bofur finally spoke up. I tried to give him a reassuring look.

"No, I'll keep my head down and I won't be doing much talking. I couldn't stay out as late or wander around as freely as a woman, men don't trust women."

Bofur suddenly stood up and grabbed my hands. "I don't want you doing this."

"I know." I said quietly, before gently pulling away from him.

We made our way together to Balin's apartments, and there a small assemblage was gathered. Bofur kept hold of my hand while some of my instructions were vocalized.

"As you might remember, a scout had reported that two wagons of outsiders were on route to Dale. It was confirmed yesterday that they should be arriving to the outer city gates by mid-afternoon today." Balin explained. "It would be ideal for you to enter the city with them. Then, during their orientation, you can slip off and make for the hideaway home that we have secured for you. You remember the location?" Balin asked me as he stepped forward and handed me an old iron key attached to a leather thong. I nodded and slipped it over my head, tucking it out of sight under my clothes. I had poured over the maps for so long that I had the main routes and shortcuts of Dale near perfectly memorized.

"And you're to leave a written report at the dead drop location at sundown, twice weekly. Do you remember where it is, lass?" Balin asked.

"Yes. I've been over all of this a hundred times." I replied somewhat impatiently, recalling the loose second stone on the left, five rows up from the bottom of a stone wall that was roughly three dozen paces eastward from my door, adjacent to a crumbled bakery building. I had recited it so often that I could practically visualise it, though it seemed an awful lot to leave to blind faith - assuming I got into the city, and assuming the house had been procured for me, and assuming the dead drop was created properly and still undiscovered, and assuming I could leave a message there without being seen or having the message taken after I left it, I was to then assume that some dwarf or another would recover the message and bring it back to Dain in due time.

Balin nodded and I shuffled my feet, trying to keep myself as alert as I needed to be despite the early hour.

"You must skirt Dale to meet up with the incoming refugees and approach the city from the south. Nori will accompany you part way and ensure you are not spotted by the city lookouts. Are you ready?"

The next few moments passed by in a blur as my heart rate seemed to double. I vaguely remember turning to Bofur, smiling, assuring him I would be fine even though every fibre in my body seemed to doubt it. We must have embraced, kissed perhaps, but I was too focused on keeping a calm exterior that I regrettably can't properly recall our goodbye. Though do remember turning back, just as I was being led out, my face already half-hidden beneath my hooded cloak, and I told Bofur one last thing with all the backing of my false confidence.

"Don't come to Dale."

* * *

It took us the better part of the morning to get from the mountain to our planned intercept location, a journey through deep snow drifts far from any prying eyes. It was a tedious and dreary start to my task, and one that had began with the two of us sneaking through the mountain itself, skirting the vast treasure chambers of Erebor until we came to a small nondescript hallway that sloped upwards, rather than down. I took this to be the hidden escape tunnel that Bilbo and the company had used to infiltrate the mountain, and my suspicions were confirmed when we exited onto a ledge several hundred yards up. We emerged from the warm depths of the mountain into the icy pre-dawn air to be treated to a stunning starscape not unlike the glowworm caves, and for a moment I couldn't help but stop to take in the brilliance.

Two of Dain's household guard were there, and thankfully saved us the painful task of climbing down the icy slopes by instead lowering us down by long coils of rope. As we descended, the immediate beauty of our situation began to fade. By the end of our descent, I was already cold and sore from the chafing of the ropes, and had to rub my hands together to bring feeling back to them as Nori unpacked two sets of snowshoes from a bag near our landing site, and then sent the empty bag back up tied to one of the ropes. The snowshoes were the first clue that we would be staying far from any path used around the mountain.

We walked in the starlight, the undisturbed snow picking up the soft light from the heavens and allowing me just enough of a field of vision at times to follow the dwarf on his way across the desolation. Good eyesight and a knack for directions seemed to be a common trait among their kind, yet Nori seemed more skilled than most at nocturnal path-finding as he guided me over hills and around thickets and through the shallowest drifts of snow.

As the sun began to peek over the Eastern horizon we were leaving the mountain behind, and were now beginning the wide sweep to the south that would take us around Dale unseen by my own kind. There were contingencies if we were spotted, of course, but whatever skill or luck Nori had at remaining undetected seemed to be holding.

With the sun came the winds, and with them came a chill that the weak rays of the sun could not combat. Only through movement could I keep myself warm, and even then by the time we took our second break I needed to cram my hands into my underarms and dance about to keep my extremities from turning frostbitten. The wind was good, though. The wind would hide our tracks, and turning to look back in the direction we came I could already see that a few hundred yards back it was impossible to tell what direction we had come from with Nori's meandering course.

"They all laughed at me when I volunteered my skills to Thorin, you know." He confided as he took a pull from a flask and then handed it to me. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the drink was non-alcoholic, and yet the heavily spied contents - rich with cinnamon and nutmeg and other unidentifiable herbs - still forced me to take only small sips despite the delicious warmth that it spread through my body.

"Except Dori, who looked horrified when I told them all I was a... purveyor of pre-owned and used goods." He winked at me and I grinned back at him.

"Had to get a blinking halfling to do my job for me though, didn't they? And then he went and mucked it up anyways. I'll give it to him though; he did a nice spot of work in Mirkwood, didn't he?"

I handed him back the flask, which I couldn't help but notice looked distinctly like something you would find in Rivendell, and he tucked it away.

"Still, as soon as Mr. Baggins goes off home, who do they come running back to for all their shiftier deeds, eh? Good old Nori."

* * *

We were crouched behind a shrubby highrise, Dale roughly north of us, and the refugee convoy winding its way up alongside the River Running some miles to the south.

Nori bustled about in his pack a moment and then handed me a belt with a sheathed knife already attached.

"Can't be too careful." he said before turning to scan the landscape once more. "I reckon if we set you up a false camp, just over there a ways, see that patchy area? You can act as if you're just packing up when they get near, and then join them. If anyone asks you could tell them you put in a long days travel yesterday and couldn't see how near the city you were when you stopped, it was snowing hard last night, it would have been hard to see anything at all. "

He gathered up what dry wood he could from the thicket and then met me at my 'campsite', where I had packed down the snow and began to lay out a bed of brush on which to set up the travel blankets we had brought for show. While I did, I marvelled at the level of preparation that had gone into this ruse. Nori was busy upending the contents of his own pack onto the ground - a bag full of ash and charcoal sufficient to look like the remains of a fire that had burned all night. He built his fresh fire on the top of the pile, and then set up a makeshift tripod to hang my small cast iron pot.

"Well, this is where I leave you." Nori said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Goodbye, Bahukhazâd. And remember; guard your life, guard your gold, guard your beard - in that order."

I grinned and watched him go, and then I threw some snow into my pot to melt into water, mechanically adding a few pine needles, while wondering what exactly it will be like to spend some time away from the dwarves.


	39. You Can Drink Your Fancy Ales

For the third time in the span of a single day, I found myself standing up close to the wall of a building in a quiet alleyway, doing my best to look inconspicuous as I surveyed the stones. The biting cold wind raced down the narrow corridor between the backs of newly repaired buildings on either side. It carried each breath away before it could even freeze the moisture out of it, and forced me to pull my thankfully large, mannish sleeves down as far as I could over my numb fingers. At least the bitter breeze meant that there was barely anyone around to see my strange behaviour.

Was I involved in some dubious deed? Had I uncovered new details in a secret plot that required immediate correspondence with Dale? Had my sleep-deprived and often chilled state slowed my brain to the point where I had forgotten the location of the hidden dead drop, where such correspondence was to take place?

No.

Truthfully, it was much less glamorous than all that. These days, every sane-minded person in Dale bustled to and fro with a sense of urgency born of the fact that if they lingered too long out in the wintery conditions, they would regret it later, and yet here I was, out in the cold, inspecting the architecture.

To be more specific, I was overly paranoid that the dwarvish repairs done to the buildings around my ramshackle apartment weren't up to par. I knew that I had no reason to suspect so - given that during the months leading up to my arrival only the rather important buildings were prone to falling apart, and none of the buildings in this section of the city even came close to being of any significant value. Besides that, nothing had collapsed since the attack on the mountain, but still, here I was inspecting the mortar between new and old sections of stonework, because truthfully it was the only way I felt I could be useful here.

So far, in the five days of living like a man in the slums of Dale, I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Despite all my training, all the prompting and lessons in how to spot someone of questionable repute, I couldn't single out a single person that seemed even remotely interesting, let alone up to no good - which was probably for the best, since it took most of my concentration each day just to pull off my male disguise. Spending what little of my remaining brain power on inspecting repairs at least made me feel like my day wasn't a total waste, even if I had yet to find even the barest chink in the dwarves' work.

Entering Dale had been, in fact, much easier than I had anticipated. The last caravan of refugees had accepted my accompaniment for the final leg of their journey with nothing more than a dismissive nod. They were so eager to reach the safety and comfort to be offered behind the city walls that their inclination towards small talk and introductory questioning had been all but subdued. I kept my head down, and, as the designated immigration official began to lead the newcomers to the great hall, I slipped down a side street. My guise must have been more convincing than I believed it to be, as, much to my terror, I crossed paths with Bard just after separating from the group, yet he simply walked by me without so much as a second glance. I remembered Bard had not even seen me with my hair cut short, let alone darkened and mostly hidden under a cloak, so he likely would have had to all but run right into me in order to recognize my other facial features.

I found my way relatively easily to the small house the dwarves had secured for me to reside in and I noticed upon entering the dwelling that my trunk of clothing and supplies had already been delivered - a relatively easy task for the dwarves to accomplish without much notice since they were still regularly bringing cartloads of building material to numerous locations within Dale that they were still repairing. My tiny abode had been furnished with a single bed, a small table and a singular chair, yet I also found it stocked with extra blankets, candles and cut firewood. The table had been laden with a stack of fresh parchment, vials of ink and a few new quills for writing my bi-weekly reports. My first one had left much to be desired, as I could think of nothing more lucrative to jot down besides that fact that I had remained undetected, but had discovered nothing unusual so far.

So here I was, standing in the alley and peering at a wall on one of the coldest days, hoping my untrained eye might pick up some kind of _evidence_, when I suddenly heard a voice speak up from close-by and forced myself to simply tense up rather than jump like a frightened rabbit.

"I had an uncle who started staring at walls once..." I could hear the owner of the voice walking closer, and cringed to myself.

"At least you're not striking up conversations with them yet."

I turned away from the building, keeping my head bent to help conceal my features, but I quickly cast my eyes upward to catch a glimpse of who had spoken, trying desperately to think of a quick excuse for my behaviour before I intended to vacate the area. He was tall, with a broad nose and chin, and relatively short, darker blonde hair that fell over his forehead.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. "I'm sorry. I thought- I didn't realize-"

I decided to hedge my bets and simply started walking away. I wasn't sure what he was getting at, but I realized that trying to hold a conversation with this man would be risky. I wasn't particularly good at disguising my voice and he seemed far too chatty. Much to my disgruntlement he began to follow.

"I'm sorry, ma'am... miss? I didn't mean to deter you from your... wall observation time. Should you be out here alone?"

"How did you-?" I began, swinging around to look at him, but then I realized what a big mistake that was and tried to correct myself by shaking my head and deepening my voice as much as possible. "You're mistaken." I said gruffly, ducking my head and continuing on my way, this time a little faster as I attempted to escape.

He caught up to me easily, however, and then matched my pace as I walked.

"Look," he began, "if you want to properly disguise your voice, you have to make it more natural than that." He gestured with his arms in front of him as he spoke as if he were making some great appeal. "You've overcompensated just there. You went too low, it sounded phony, I mean, have you ever even met a man that talks like that?"

I stopped once more and turned to look at him, this time with more scrutiny. He was clean shaven and had a few freckles across his nose. His brows were just a few shades darker than his hair and offset a pair of curious blue eyes. He had a wider mouth with thin lips that were upturned in a friendly grin. He was taller than Bard by a few inches and a bit broader across the shoulders. Despite this, he seemed much less imposing, and _far_ less grim.

Unimposing or not, I couldn't think of a single thing to say in response to his brief instruction. I glanced around quickly, ensuring no one else had heard the exchange. He quickly held up his hands.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that I saw you out here dressed as a man, staring at a wall." He assured me, which didn't help matters - I had blown my cover already, not even a week into my assignment. "But why _are_ you out here dressed as a man, staring at a wall?" he asked. "You're not crazy, are you?"

I opened my mouth, and then closed it again, and then squinted at him. "How could you tell so quickly?" I asked, pulling my cloak tighter around me, trying not to visibly shiver.

He smiled and seemed to puff up his chest. "I grew up in a household of woman. Three sisters, plus my mom and grandmom." he explained. "It fell to me to notice if any of them changed any little thing about their appearance, so I became extra perceptive... and you don't have the right bone structure to be a man, your neck is all wrong, plus I can tell that's just soot covering your face there."

I let out a small 'oh' and then cast my gaze back up the alleyway, wondering what I might say so that would let me go without further questioning. For all my training in adequate lying and deceit tactics, I wasn't quite prepared for an encounter where my whole disguise was torn apart within minutes. I turned back to look at the man, arranging my face into something less perplexed.

"Not that it's any of your business," I began somewhat crassly, having to speak up as a particularly spirited gust of wind blew past us. "The truth is that I just arrived in the city. I was on the road for some time, and travelling as a woman is dangerous even in the best of times." At least that part was half-true. That was something my training had stressed over and over again - use small truths to cover big lies.

"Oh, of course... that does make sense." he responded, nodding thoughtfully. "So then, what about the wall thing? If you are crazy, it's alright. I won't judge."

I grinned a little despite myself, and then latched onto the first ludicrous thought that crossed my mind. "My ancestors once lived in Dale, my great-great - well a few times great- grandfather helped construct later parts of the city. I was told once he had a signature style with the way he mortared the stonework... I was on my way to my new home and this wall caught my eye." I shrugged in a somewhat embarrassed fashion. "I am truthfully quite tired from travelling, I might have dazed off a little."

"You know, under all that manliness you do look a little tired, now that you mention it." he observed uncouthly, but then made up for it by offering to walk me home. It was the sort of encounter that, had it been a year ago in Bree, I would have turned down on principle. After all, in my experience with human men there had been no such thing as a selfless act. Now, with my worldview greatly expanded, I was almost tempted to take him up on his offer. If only it wasn't for my secret mission. No, leading a stranger back to my house would not be a good idea, I decided.

"No, that's quite alright." I said, shaking my head. "If my ancestors knew I needed a guide to find my way around the city that they helped build, they would be rolling in their graves. Besides, I should find my way on my own, otherwise I'll always be getting myself lost."

He looked ready to object but then seemed to decide to respect my wishes. "Well, if you do find yourself lost, I am just around the corner there, five houses down, big cedar door, you'll often hear raised women's voices inside... though I suppose if you are lost anywhere but here, you're out of luck." he trailed off, reaching up and scratching his chin.

I bit my lip a moment and then bid him goodbye, walking down the alley in the opposite direction from my home - not that I felt threatened by this man, I just felt that I should commit to the secrecy I was trying to uphold. I likely wouldn't even see him again anytime soon, so I resolved to do my best to go on as though the encounter hadn't happened. Still, as I was about to round the corner I couldn't help but look back over my shoulder... the strange, friendly man staring rather closely at the stone wall.

* * *

I had thought about abandoning my purpose in Dale after my encounter with the talkative blonde man, yet I would feel like such a failure for wasting much of the dwarves' time and resources only to return within a week with absolutely nothing to offer. Instead I decided instead to take on a new identity, which I spent the better portion of a day creating for myself. I washed my face clean the next afternoon and headed towards a small shop I had passed by a few days previous. It boasted very inexpensive used clothing for those arriving without much to their name. I picked out a few long skirts that seemed about my size, two bodices that were perhaps a little dull and tattered at the seams but otherwise in good condition, a long-sleeved chemise for under the bodices, a scarf and a simple round-shaped hat that covered most of my forehead and the tops of my ears. The dwarves had given me a rather ample purse of gold and I gave the shopkeeper a full coin more than what she asked for the wares. She smiled at me fondly and happily answered a few of my questions. I asked her if there was anywhere that people gathered in the evenings, for talk and drink out of the cold, and she informed me of a building that was slowly being transformed into a functional tavern - though its stock was still very limited and the food served left something to be desired - but still it was warm and often rather busy. I also asked where I could buy a small mirror, as the dwarves failed to pack me one, and was directed to a general supplies shop just a few doors down that sometimes had household items in stock. I nodded my thanks and ducked out back into the snowfall.

I changed into my new garb once I returned back to my house, keeping on my trousers under my new skirt for added warmth. I let lose my hair and pulled some of it forward in front of my ears, before I placed on my hat. I then set to melting some wax which I mixed with my jar of charcoal powder. Once set, I took a small brush that I had found at the second shop, along with a new handheld mirror, and applied a line of it along my lashes. I also went over my eyebrows, darkening them to better match my hair and just slightly changing the shape. I added a beauty mark high on my cheekbone for good measure, and then felt placated that the few Laketowners' that knew me would likely no longer be able to recognize me in passing.

Wrapping a scarf around my neck, I headed back out and made my way to the makeshift tavern. The shopkeeper had been correct in that it was busy, especially on a blustery, miserable evening such as this. A montage of voices and laughter hit my ears as soon as I stepped inside. I revelled for a moment in the warmth that also washed over me - even with a fire, my small house was not very well insulated, especially with only one body to help heat it so I typically always had to have a blanket draped over my shoulders. In the tavern, however, there were enough people to make the air feel almost balmy. Candles were lit at every table and numerous wall sconces, and a large fireplace was alight and crackled happily against the far wall where a few more comfy chairs had been arranged. A long bar had been constructed at the front of the room, with both a man and woman behind it, wiping mugs clean and serving drinks. I was constantly surprised at the progress Dale had made, and though I could see that the tables and chairs had been hastily constructed out of mismatched wood, the whole building was serving its purpose just fine.

I hesitantly walked up to the bar area. The woman sidled over to me, tucking her cleaning cloth in her belt. She was middle aged and looked rather tired, but she gave me a friendly smile nonetheless.

"What can I do you for?" she asked, placing her hand on the bar and leaning some of her weight on it. "We've only got two selections of ale, light or dark, plus a barrel or two of some Dorwinion wine if you've a finer taste. And we've got fresh bread and cheese tonight if you're peckish."

I took a light ale and the proffered foods, missing the rich, fatty meats Erebor always seemed to supply, and then sidled to a small table in the corner. Luckily I was not the only solo guest in the establishment so I didn't stand out on my own. I ate and drank slowly, straining to hear bits of the conversations playing out around me. Still, it didn't sound as if there was any unusual gossip floating around at all. I realized, however, that this was the place to be in order to hear a lot of information in a relatively short time span. After I finished up, I walked back to the bar and smiled at the woman who had served me. She approached me again and I thanked her for her service and then introduced myself, using the false name I had decided upon.

"I'm Eleanor. I've just recently arrived here." I told her, keeping watch to make sure I wasn't keeping her from any other waiting customers. "Listen, I know you probably wouldn't normally consider this, but I'm looking for work, I wouldn't require much pay, I'd even work shifts just for an included dinner."

She raised her eyebrows speculatively but didn't immediately object so I hastened to explain.

"I don't need much to live on. I'm here on my own." I said, lacing my voice with a soft sadness. "I was living with my father and brother on a small farm about twenty leagues south of here. After the battle, we had no warning that there were still orc parties roving about the countryside. They found us in the night and my father forced me to take our only horse and run... I circled back at first light, but... they didn't make it." At this point I let my eyes glaze over. "I knew I couldn't stay, all our livestock was slain, so I travelled until I found others in the same situation travelling here... I mostly just need an excuse to leave the house, be around people, you know? I'm used to hard work."

The barkeep thought for a moment, pursing her lips, and then reached out and took hold of my hand.

"Aye." she nodded, grinning at me sadly. "We can at least see how you do. The maker knows we could use a little help, it's been tiring work for these old bones."

I thanked her profusely and she told me to come in before the dinner crowds the next day so that they might show me the rounds. I smiled to myself as I walked home that night. Finally I had made some advancement, and I had convinced someone that I was a different person entirely. _Tragic yet determined Eleanor_. And though I had vowed to never again work in a tavern, Eleanor had not. The setting was also much different from my past experience so I was almost eager to prove my merit in a less-hostile taproom.

* * *

I learnt the next day that the tavern operators, Cuthbert and Avis, were a married couple who once ran a small pub in Laketown. Bard (whom was interestingly referred to as 'King' Bard) had given them special permission to open up the new establishment in Dale once the trade agreements ensured rather continual supplies. The vast majority of the profit simply went back into paying for those supplies, and they had to keep their prices very low as most of Dale's inhabitants still had next to nothing to live on. Apparently much of the gold donated by Erebor had gone into repairing, furnishing and stocking most of the more communal properties, such as the tavern, great hall, and many of the shops - so no one person 'owned' these fundamental properties. Instead, willing inhabitants of Dale had been granted leave to work in such areas for a small wage, ensuring that the people were not taken advantage of by greedy owners that would demand unrealistic prices for essential goods.

Avis then asked me if I would still be willing to work for meals and - if any guest felt so inclined to leave any - tips. I quickly agreed and she proceeded to show me the backroom where they would get as much food preparation done as possible before they would see their first costumers. Their provisions largely depended on the quantity and frequency of shipments arriving from Mirkwood, the Iron Hills, and a few lucrative farming villages far to the south. This meant that sometimes they would only be able to bake breads or rolls, and supplement it with dried fruits or hard cheeses, whereas other times they could cook hearty stews, and, on the rare occasion, they might even have a cut of freshly cooked meat to include.

Today, they could only provide relatively the same meal as last night; a dense, brown bread with a hunk of spiced cheese. Avis set me to slicing the bread while she got plates ready, and when I was through she showed me the bar front and how to pull the drafts without getting too much foam (something I already knew how to do, but still I nodded as if I were just learning). She then pointed out the wine cask at the end, and indicated towards where the clean mugs were stored under the bar. I was also told what to do with dirty mugs and plates, how to collect payment, and where the cleaning supplies were kept so that I might wipe down tables and deal with major spills.

"Think you got it all? It is a lot to take in all at once I know, but you'll learn as you go, and we'll both be right here." Avis asked kindly as she handed me a fresh apron.

I gave her a small, nervous smile and nodded. In truth it would be easy, second-hand really, but they both believed me a farmer girl with no experience, so I couldn't act too confident at first.

The evening passed in a breeze, and I was surprisingly exhausted by the end of my shift. It had been busier than the previous night and I found myself being called behind the bar to help pull drinks in between bringing out plates of food and quickly wiping up when a table was vacated.

"It almost seems fated that you came to us when you did, we haven't been that busy in a while." Avis remarked as she dropped down onto a chair with a small groan after the last customer had left.

"You did well, miss." Cuthbert added gruffly from behind his short, greying beard. "I think we'd like to have you back tomorrow, if you're interested?"

I assured them I was, helped finish the dishes, and was sent home with an entire quarter block of cheese and a full loaf of bread. I checked upon arrival to my place that my dark makeup had not been smudged during the evening and was happy to see it all still in place despite the fact that I had been sweating at some points - I had been extra careful to not rub my forehead to avoid smearing an eyebrow. I noticed, however, that my hair was looking a little greyish as opposed to the dark brown it was supposed to be, so I resolved myself to getting up early the next morning in order to re-colour it.

I was beginning to sorely miss my large, comfortable quarters of Erebor and I was surprised at how quickly I had become accustomed to a more lavish lifestyle. I didn't realize how truly spoiled and entitled I'd become until I found myself grimacing at the prospect of having to use and empty a chamber pot, and washing my hair over a basin with warm kettle water. In truth, it was better than my many years living in Bree, but I still couldn't help but long for the luxuries I'd left behind in the mountain.

* * *

The next few nights at the tavern were quieter, which was more advantageous for me as it allowed me to really hone into different discussions happening throughout. Avis was so impressed with my performance that she quickly decided to let me take drink orders directly at the tables, so I was able to spend the majority of the time right on the floor, keeping my ears open and casting subtle looks around at the patrons, watching out for anyone that looked a tad leery. I was surprised to see that the working dwarves of Dale frequented the tavern as well, always ordering a few rounds of the dark ale. I was happy to serve them as I enjoyed listening to their deep, rolling voices. I never recognized any of them, however, and they didn't seem to recognize me.

One night I was wiping up a rather sticky table when I heard a hushed voice from a man that must have been sitting nearby behind me. I slowed my cleaning, turning my head just slightly to better overhear.

"-no, I'll be meeting with my, ah, client, tomorrow at dawn. All the preparations are in order."

I sidled around the table somewhat, pretending to be working at a very stubborn spot, and cast a tiny glace at the table over. Two men were seated there; I didn't recall seeing them arrive, though I had been in the back for a portion of the past hour washing plates. Their heads were huddled rather close together, and I did not recognize them from any other night. They were unshaven, and travel-worn and I knew they weren't of Laketown descent. My heart rate quickened. Something about their private posturing and their quiet tones made me wonder if I had finally come across persons of suspicion. I moved to another table just nearby, pretending like they didn't exist to me while I tried to tune everything but their voices out.

"Are you certain it will work? It has not in the past-"

I was getting excited now, but much to my extreme irritation a new guest came and sat down at the table I was pretending to clean, and his bustling about caused me to miss what was next said. I tensed and quickly scanned for another empty table within earshot that I could move to, but before I could step away the new guest addressed me.

"Oh! It's you. I didn't know you worked here now."

I spared him a glance to see that it was the tall, blondish man that I had exchanged words with in the alley a few days back. I shot him a quick, impatient grin and then looked back towards the men at the other table. To my dismay I saw that they were getting up, ready to leave.

"Did you just start here?" the blonde man continued, seemingly oblivious to my irritation.

The two strange men continued talking on their way to the exit, but I couldn't catch a word of it as the man seated at my table decided to fill the awkward silence and keep speaking.

"Sooo, what does a man have to do to get a drink around here?" he asked casually.

I swung around with a huff, ready to glare at him, but caught myself in time and smiled rather tersely instead.

"What would you like?" I clipped.

"The black draft, and some food. Please... I'm Hall by the way." he said with a smile, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair.

"Hall?" I repeated, unsure if I had heard him correctly, but he nodded happily. "Is that short for something?" I asked.

"Nope. Just Hall." he assured, before knocking his boots together to get the snow off. I rather thought he should have done that at the door, but of course I couldn't tell him that.

"Right. I'll be right back with everything." I said, darting to the bar before he could engage me in any further conversation.

When I returned with his plate and mug, he was turned in his seat, laughing with a man seated behind him at another table. I set his order down and he spun back forward to look at me.

"You know, usually it's polite to return a name when someone tells you theirs." he chided.

"It's - um... Eleanor." I told him, still rather distracted by my lost chance at perhaps overhearing something actually important for once.

"Short for Elanorean?" he asked, taking a swig of his drought.

"What? No. Just Eleanor." I retorted, shooting him a quizzical look. He was still smiling. I shook my head slightly, a genuine smile hidden behind my annoyance. "Let me know if I can get you anything else." I added more gently before returning to my duties.

The rest of the evening passed without any more incidents of suspicious behaviour - unless you counted _Hall _pulling off bits from his bread and rolling them into small, compact spheres before eating them. When I picked up his empty dishes and collected his payment, he asked if I needed accompaniment walking home that night to which I politely declined once more.

"I just don't believe a young, vulnerable lady, such as yourself, should be out on the streets alone after dark."

I smiled almost bitterly, thinking of everything I had been through; warg hunts, stone giants, Azog, giant spiders, imprisonment, Smaug, the battle, losing Thorin, Kili and Fili...

"Trust me," I began rather gravely, "I am _not _vulnerable." I lightened my tone and smirked. "And I'm not that young. I might even be older than you."

He clucked his tongue. "I don't think I believe that." he replied, stretching his long arms behind his head. "Well, goodnight then Eleanor. I'm sure we will cross paths again - likely due to the fact that I enjoy coming to this fine establishment for the occasional nightcap."

* * *

When I arrived back at my residence, I grabbed a clean scroll to write out what I had heard at the tavern - which I recalled was something that sounded secretive and involved someone meeting someone else early the following morning... I knew my information was certainly unreliable and altogether too cryptic, it most likely meant nothing at all, and I doubted very much a dwarf would be checking the dead drop location in between now and dawn. Still, there was something about those men, they didn't seem to belong, they didn't laugh, they kept their heads bent, and so I thought it best to at least mention it in my report.

I quickly jotted down what I'd overheard, and what I could remember about the men's appearance and dress. I made it clear that it was only a feint suspicion, since I hadn't exactly heard anything directly incriminating. Yet I was still pleased to provide something other than my typical, wildly unexciting _'no news, nothing happening'_ statements I had left so far. I threw on my hat and scarf and stepped out into the dark night. I began towards the stone wall, making doubly sure that no one was in the area and no one was watching from their windows as I walked.

The dead drop location itself was rather well chosen as it resided on a lesser used street with no windows facing that direction. I ambled up to the wall, and leaned against it, pretending to simply be taking a break while my cold fingers wiggled and pried at the loose stone just behind me - second to the left, five rows up from the bottom. I quickly tucked the folded parchment in the small hollow and returned the piece of wall to its original position, making sure it was securely fitted before I returned home.

I fell asleep that night wondering what the morning would bring.


	40. Many Meetings

Over the last several days I had found myself sleeping in later and later as I adjusted to my new work schedule, to the point where I was now waking with the rising winter sun sometime late in the morning. I had already been quite accustomed to getting up whenever I liked back at the mountain, and so this new schedule suited me just fine. My body was mostly adjusted to the less comfortable and much smaller bed, and each night I went to sleep well fed and cocooned in enough blankets to allow me to become rather blissfully warm sometime during the night.

Suffice to say, I was quite comfortable in my mornings.

As a result, I was downright unhappy to be woken by a series of loud thumps on my door, much earlier in the morning than I was used to, and only hours after my first report of any substance. I sat bolt upright, my mind racing with possibilities. While I was almost wholly convinced that it was a dwarf from Erebor, here to interrogate me for more details regarding my message, I began to have my doubts as I quickly pulled on the original male garb I was assigned to wear and the pounding shook the door a second time. Maybe someone had seen me using the dead drop. Maybe, it was the two men from last night!

I slipped Nori's dagger up one sleeve - fortunately there was lots of room to conceal it underneath the baggy fabric, and then inched over to the door. I took a steadying breath, preparing myself the way Ganin had taught me, and then waited.

The third time the stranger knocked, I flung the door open on the first thud, grabbed the arm doing the knocking and hauled the owner of that arm across my room into the far wall with all of my weight. The figure, dressed in heavy winter clothing, was still struggling out of my wood pile as I drew the dagger and pointed it threateningly.

Struggling up to full height and sending pieces of firewood toppling across my floor, the man then winced and lifted a hand up to rub his neck.

"Ow... Honestly, ow."

"_Hall_?" I blurted out, my bravado being overcome by dumb shock.

"Dressing up again, I see," he noted, lowering his hood, "I'll tell you the truth, Eleanor, if I was having trouble deciding if I liked you more as a poor boy or a barmaid, this settled it. Your manly disguise has a bit of a mean streak, not unlike the uncle I told you about, funny enough. You can go back to being a woman any time now if it will keep me from further injury."

I bit my lip and regarded him with a good deal of scrutiny, trying to figure out what in the blazes he was doing here on my doorstop an hour before sun-up, and then another thought struck me.

"Were you following me last night?" I demanded, taking a threatening step towards him.

Hall held up his hands. "Well, _following_ is a strong word." he replied with a nervous grin. "I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be, you know, bothered by anyone as you walked home."

"And you think sneaking about, invading my privacy, and turning up at my door uninvited doesn't count as behaviour that would bother me?" I challenged, placing my unneeded weapon upon the table.

Hall gulped rather dramatically as his eyes flickered to the dagger I had just set down. "I did knock at least." he conceded, offering up an apologetic smile. "Also, I had news, I wasn't sure if anyone else would be around to tell you, but the city wells, they're closed off."

I snapped to attention at his statement. "Why? What's happened?" I demanded, feeling a sudden sense of urgency.

Hall shrugged most unhelpfully and I fought the urge to shake him. He elaborated upon seeing my burning interest.

"They've just gone bad," he offered, moving to go and sit in my chair even though I didn't invite him to. "Some folks are ill after using the water pulled up from this morning, so they've roped them off. There are already crews out working to break up ice from the river for now, and there's some drinking water stored at the great hall."

I began pacing, formulating my next strategy as I knew, beyond reasonable doubt, that the men I had seen at the bar last night were responsible for poisoning Dale's water supply - or at least in league with those that had planned it. I stood still a moment and closed my eyes, trying to bring up their image in my mind, striving to remember, and then memorize, every detail about them so that I would recognize them again when I found them.

"Eleanor?" Hall ventured. I had nearly forgotten he was still in my presence.

"I have to go out." I told him, swinging around and fixing him with a curt look, hoping he would take it as an invitation to leave. I grabbed my bodice and shrugged it on over my tunic, quickly pulling tight the laces.

"Where?" Hall questioned, making no move to leave.

"Out, just out." I quipped, grabbing my skirt and pulling it on over my trousers, shooting Hall another glare for his blatant invasion of my privacy, and hoping he was feeling slightly uncomfortable that I had to resort to dressing in front of him. He, however, did not seem bothered by it.

"I'll come with you!" he offered gallantly, getting up and hurrying past me to open the door. He continued to stand there, holding it in wait, while I puzzled over the fact that he could be so uncouth as to barge in on me, and then think he could just invite himself along without even knowing where I was going. A part of me had been looking forward to kicking him out in the wake of my leaving, but his helpful and oblivious countenance had deflated my self-satisfaction in doing so. I sighed to myself, grabbed my coat and hat, and then stomped past him into the street, muttering an offhand 'thank you' as I passed.

"How do you know I'm not on my way to attend to some personal business?" I asked while twisting the key in my lock. I turned to look at him pointedly as I tucked the key safely away. "Business of a _womanly_ nature, for example?" I continued, raising a brow and then turning to offer him an arm. If he was going to force his company upon me, at least I expected to be treated like a lady. Besides, I couldn't deny that having him along would give me some small degree of anonymity - the dwarves had been right in that fact at least; a woman wandering around alone was more likely to be remembered than one accompanied by a man.

"Oh please." He chided gently, linking his arm around mine and reaching across with his other hand to pat mine reproachfully. "I grew up in a house with three sisters, my mother, an aunt _and_ my grandmother. I would know if you were in the middle of anything _womanly_. And even if you were, I'm rather immune to it now."

We walked in silence for a while, leaving my street and passing through a few more quiet alleys before we entered a main thoroughfare, joining the crowd of people that were wandering and gossiping, and all of them meandering in the general direction towards the nearest well. Hall seemed more than comfortable to guide me forward through the masses when I offered no resistance to going in that direction.

As we entered the square at the heart of the district, I could tell by the commotion that Hall had been telling the truth. The well was no longer safe. Small groups of people hung about in clusters about the edge of the square, and the new arrivals, only just now being made aware of the reason for the commotion, were fretting about where they were going to get their water from now on.

Hall led me right through the throng to the well itself, where a man harnessed to the well's winch hung just below the lip of the brick well-lining. He was talking in a hushed tone to a guard-captain who was peering over into the depths below.

"...poor sod must have been drunk off his rocker, stinks of alcohol and all manner of foulness down there. Can't very well bring him up now though with all these peop-" The sound of Hall approaching caused the well worker to break off, but once he recognized my escort the man relaxed. The guard-captain, having heard enough for the moment, left to set his men to work.

"Ah, Hall, it's only you. Awful business, it is. Some chap tumbled down the well and set the water foul. He was submerged 'neath the water when the first folks came to draw this mornin'..." I took a step further, my curiosity overcoming what should have been a natural feminine aversion to death, but when the well worker noticed me his account of this morning's events fell silent and he squirmed uncomfortably where he dangled.

"Oh dear me, beggin' your pardon miss! I didn't see yeh there. I'll spare you any more of the wretched details. Hall, keep her back - this isn't a sight for the fairer sex."

I was about to object, and I got the feeling that even Hall would have spoken up in my defence, given his combined experience with members of the 'fairer sex' in his own family, and my outburst earlier in the day. Neither of us were to be given the chance, though, as the guard-captain began to address the people who were being ushered back by his men.

"Please, return to your homes. Town criers will be sent out when the wells are running clear and clean once more. Until that time, I urge you all to ration what drinkable water you have, and to use river water only for washing and cooking unless it is of the utmost urgency! I repeat..."

The captain went on to repeat his message, but by that time Hall had already bid his farewells to the well worker and was guiding me back out of the square. My mind was racing. From what I had just gathered, it sounded as if the well spoilage was caused by mere accident; the clumsiness of a drunkard perhaps trying to stumble home. Yet, hearing those suspicious men at the tavern, whispering of _something_ set to happen this morning, was just too great a coincidence for me to ignore. Perhaps it hadn't been an accident at all, but cleverly made to look like one.

"I know you had your own business to attend to, but maybe you would be willing to come for breakfast first?" Hall asked, turning to address me and breaking my line of thought. Before I could turn him down, he went on to explain. "Look, I know you can't have much water stored in that tiny little room of yours, but my family has more than enough set aside for a rainy... erm... dry day. Granny grew up in darker times, you know, civil unrest, foreign invasions and the like, so she's a bit of a hoarder."

"Why, Hall, bringing me to meet your family, so soon? What will the neighbours think?" I teased dryly, but if I was honest with myself, I had no water saved at all. It wasn't that I didn't bring some home at the end of each night, but I did have a terrible habit of drinking it all before going to bed. The cold winter air was also very dry, and when wood heat was added to the equation it made my throat feel terribly parched. It was a dreadful inconvenience, causing me to drink water like I had been lost in the desert for some time, and consequently forcing me to get up several times before falling asleep to use the chamber pot.

Hall took my remark as consent, and again when I made no move to resist he led me further out of the square. "Trust me," He assured me as we walked arm in arm. "Once you've met my family, the neighbours will be the least of your worries."

As much as I hated to admit it, I was faced with a simple, pleasing fact: If I continued running into Hall, and given my current luck I likely would, my stay in Dale might not be so isolated after all, and that perhaps might keep me sane at the very least - if the man didn't drive me crazy that is.

I bumped shoulders with a man as we turned down an avenue branching off to the East. It snapped me from my good mood momentarily, and when I turned to see why the man wasn't moving with the rest of the crowd, I recognized him, and it sent a chill down my spine.

It was one of the men from the night before.

* * *

I allowed Hall to lead once more, as currently my mind was leaping to all sorts of wild and unlikely conclusions. The man _had_ looked suspicious, there was no denying that, but there was nothing to prove that the man had in some way been responsible for this morning's events.

But what if he was?

It wasn't as though I could do anything about it. My orders were to observe and report, nothing else. I didn't even get a very good chance to observe though, as I suspected changing my plans with Hall would have drawn all sorts of unwanted attention my way. And even if Hall had left quietly, lingering back while the square was evacuated, I would have stood out worse than an elf in Erebor. Besides, it was probably just coincidence.

But what if it wasn't?

All my days spent wiping down beer stained tables and floors, serving men and women too drunk to treat themselves with respect let alone the bar wench - in short, doing everything I had swore never to do again - could finally have paid off. If I uncovered some plot, some dissention in Dale, I could return to Erebor, and my doubting fiancée, with my head held high.

But what if it-

"You know, your lack of any explanation whatsoever means I'll just have to chalk up you dragging me into your house and pointing a dagger at me to pure, unbridled manic behaviour." Hall mused cheerily and rather loudly, perhaps he had been trying to catch my attention again for a while. "Don't worry, though" he continued, "most of the women in my family have had their crazy spells. Dad used to say we were the only sane ones of the bunch." He then nodded towards a familiar crumbling brick wall that we were passing before shooting a sly glance in my direction. Clearly, he wasn't going to let the memory of our first encounter fade away so easily.

I smiled sheepishly despite myself. We were near to the old palace district, an area I had only briefly explored once while still dressed as a male - incidentally where I had met Hall while examining the stonework, and shortly thereafter had decided to do away with that silly disguise.

We turned one more corner and Hall then came to a stop. "We're here!" he announced, and I looked up to see that we had stopped in front of a rather large and complete looking house with a polished cedar door.

Hall was staring at me expectedly.

"Oh." I blurted dumbly.

"Let me guess..." He stated before I could say anything further, having clearly taken my response as less than wholly positive. "You were expecting a house made of shiny white stone. I know, I know, the tan colour they use up north here isn't nearly as impressive as the masonry back in Minas Tirith."

I opened my mouth to say only that it was much larger than I had expected, but he continued as he opened the large, wooden door.

"Yes, I'll admit, it was an adjustment. But really, you can't fault the craftsmanship. We didn't even need dwarven labour to help get the place back in full working order, not that their work is any better than our architects mind you."

Again, any attempt to get a word in edgewise was flouted, this time by a woman who had dashed up to Hall the moment we had stepped inside the warm entranceway.

"Hall, good, you're back!" She beamed, before looking at me and smiling curtly. "Hello." She stated, and then went right back to addressing Hall. "You're just in time. The cook plans to serve a dry breakfast, but granny has put us all on such a dreadful ration of water that we can all scarcely share a pot of tea between us!" She pouted, taking Hall's hand and tugging him towards the house.

"Come talk some sense into her, won't you?"

Hall looked wildly between the two of us as he was pulled with a woman on each arm, holding his ground next to me for a moment.

"I think it's too late to save me, but it's not too late for you!" He urged, and then began to relent to his sister's pull while mouthing 'run!' dramatically.

I was torn between the awkwardness of leaving Hall and the awkwardness of being dragged (literally) into private family drama. Still, I felt like I was overdue for some socialization. Not to mention overdue for breakfast, as my stomach reminded me. Besides, having lived with obstinate, quarrelsome, frustrating dwarves for the past year, I doubted very much that any human family could be quite as difficult. The moment I entered what appeared to be a sitting room, however, I quickly got the sense that Hall's family might be what I would call a _handful_, to say the least.

A very elderly woman, finely dressed, was perched on a chair and seemed to be simply rolling her eyes at the rather loud arguments of a young blonde woman, who looked to be close to my age.

A middle-aged woman, whom I assumed was Hall's mother, was tending to another girl who was in tears.

The sister who was leading Hall, and, incidentally, myself, came to a stop in the middle of the room, released her brother, and turned to the eldest lady.

"Granny, Hall agrees that your conservative methods are both unreasonable and extreme. We have vessels of water enough to last the winter, yet I'm sure the wells will be clear within the week. Tell her, Hall."

Hall put his hands up, as if warding off any bitter feelings from his granny before he even began to oppose her views. "I have talked to the workmen, they believe they can flush it out before long." he told her apologetically.

"Well, I say there is no harm in being prepared." his granny countered, fixing him with a decisive look. "I did not survive through the rape and pillage of South Gondor by being _frivolous,_ my dears."

The eldest daughter sighed, but simply turned and addressed a man that I had not noticed was standing adjacent to another doorway.

"We would like some tea brought out, a _full_ kettle please, we have company." she told him with some tone of authority. The man bobbed his head and left the room at once.

"Hall has brought a girl home?" the youngest girl questioned, her tear streaked face instantly becoming one of bright curiosity and excitement.

Her enquiry suddenly focused the room's entire attention on me and I smiled nervously.

Hall spoke up before anyone had a chance to say anything else.

"Everyone, this is Eleanor. She's a _friend_. I know it's too much to ask of you lot, but try not to pester her."

The granny let out a little hoot of a laugh. "That's like asking wolves to not enjoy their kill." she commented just loudly enough for me to hear. I tried not to frown too openly.

"This is my mother, Flora." Hall continued, leading me forward. Flora stepped up to us and smiled warmly. She had kind, yet somewhat piercing, blue eyes and dark shining hair, and though her face displayed her years in the presence of the lines that manifested around her eyes and mouth, her beauty was not yet so diminished - in fact I found her to be rather striking.

"You are very welcome here." she announced in a calm voice. "This is Mabel, my youngest." she directed, looking fondly towards the brunette girl who had been crying when I arrived.

Mabel, now a vision of happiness, grabbed both my hands and beamed at me. She seemed similar in age to Sigrid, Bard's eldest. "It is _so _nice to meet you. Hall never brings around women... we were beginning to worry."

Hall began to object but his words were cut short by his other sister, the blonde one who had been arguing with her grandmother, as she got to her feet and interjected.

"I'm Adelaide," she said with a smile, "and that's Rosalin."

Rosalin, who had first met us at the door, turned and gave me another curt smile. She seemed to be the first born, though it was her air of dignity that betrayed her age more than her appearance. Clearly she had inherited some of her mother's more eye-catching features. She had sharp eyes and a clever mouth, along with shining dark hair that was immaculately arranged.

"And this is Granny." Adelaide continued.

The grandmother tilted her head and looked at me with an eye of inspection. I realized that, compared to the other women in the room, I was somewhat shabbily dressed. Luckily for me, I was rather used to feeling inferior due to my rather unpleasant beginnings in Erebor, and so I did not feel as embarrassed as I normally might have.

Hall had never given off the impression that he was from a more well-to-do family, but that was clearly the case. I had simply assumed he was like the grand majority of Dale's residents; impoverished from Smaug's destruction of their past livelihood. Then again, I should have noticed that, though he always dressed practically, his winter outerwear was of rather fine quality. That, plus the fact that he always appeared clean and in good health, he was well-spoken, and he didn't seem to have a demanding work schedule. I was now very curious as to what exactly Hall and his family_ did_ in order to maintain a lifestyle that seemed quite a league beyond what most in Dale could currently strive for.

I lost the opportunity to ask when the man, I now guessed him to be a servant of some sort, re-entered the room with a tray set for tea.

"Where's Aunt Edna today?" Rosalin enquired as she swept forward to receive her teacup.

"She got off to an early start this morning." Flora explained. "The king has proposed renovating several buildings down near the river, and so Edna has gone to see if any would be fit to store our wares. It would open up new opportunities to us as well, once spring returns and trade on the river opens."

Hall's grandmother let out a haughty laugh in disapproval. "_King _Bard. I don't recall the bargeman ever accepting that heading."

"But Bard _is_ descended from Girion, Granny." Mabel said kindly as she brought her grandmother a cup of steaming tea. "I think he deserves the title."

"Girion was only ever a Lord to begin with." Granny instructed tartly. "Lord of a _city state_, no less, the very existence of which depended on dwarves of all creatures."

"Oh, so you are traders?" I questioned, backtracking to hide my discomfort at her somewhat insensitive comment. I smiled at Mabel as she brought me a cup of tea as well.

"Hall, it sounds as if you've told her nothing about our family." Rosalin admonished. "Surely you're not embarrassed of us?"

"Oh Rosalin, leave poor Hall alone." Adelaide countered, speaking out in defense of their brother.

Flora saved us from any further arguing on the part of the two sisters, and then turned to explain to me. "Yes, my dear, we are merchants." She emphasized the last word, looking pointedly at granny, who seemed to have been eagerly awaiting a chance to make that correction for herself. 'Traders' was obviously too uncouth a word to be applied to _this_ family. Flora continued.

"We come from Gondor, where we have quite a profitable enterprise. Naturally, when we got word of the demise of that dreadful creature in the mountain, we couldn't pass up the opportunity of playing a role in the reformation of one of the ancient kingdoms of men."

"Oh, let's be truthful mother. It also just _happens _to be next to the largest flow of wealth back into the world since the dawning of the Third Age." Rosalin added. "And so while refugees were fleeing South in the wake of the battles fought here, we were travelling North with all the goods and supplies that might be wanting here in Dale."

The rest of the morning passed me by, with most of my time spent listening to Hall's family talk amongst themselves. Shortly after they finished their tea, they broke their fast with freshly baked scones and fruit preserves, which gave me something to occupy myself with while they continued on talking about this and that, business, gossip, and talk of the world abroad. The sisters quarrelled, the grandmother voiced opinions, the mother contradicted those opinions, and Hall was primarily occupied with keeping the peace, but even though I was left alone and only asked questions in passing, it was more welcoming and comfortable company than a night at the tavern could ever present, and so I accepted my situation graciously.

By the time I made excuses for myself and was waiting for their butler to bring me my coat, the conversation had turned to a festival to be held in late winter, spearheaded by Adelaide and her friends. The middle sister had made it her recent life's work to arrange the festival, 'to lift the spirits of the people of Dale' as she put it, and had thus been spending much of her time away from home engaged in that endeavour. She practically begged me to advertise at the tavern.

"...and mother said we can provide food for the event, and your employers, Avis and Cuthbert, will provide drinks, and our next caravan may even bring musicians with it. If we're lucky, there may even be fireworks from the dwarves!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.

She had seemed the most sensible of Hall's sisters, more like him in both looks (the blonde hair) and in mentality, so seeing her so passionate made me relent to her will. I promised I would do what I could to promote the event, and with that Hall escorted me from the sitting room and out into the entryway. Once there, he looked down at his feet and rubbed the back of his neck.

"They can get a little... intense." He apologized after a moment of welcome silence.

"I thought they were lovely." I assured him, but then smiled and added "Although, at one point I was sure your grandmother looked about ready to leap out of her chair to throttle Rosalin."

Hall laughed, but the butler, who had also accompanied us out, looked uncomfortable at this sentiment, and I wondered if maybe all my time spent among dwarves had made me too uncivilized for his liking.

"I should be going." I added, smoothing out my coat. "Thank you for a wonderful morning."

Hall showed me to the door and I bade him farewell

"Oh, and next time you stop by, I promise not to hold a dagger to your throat." I added, and he paused to smile at me before closing the door.

In the background, I could see the butler squirm, and a part of me revelled in it. The dwarves, and their disregard for being prim and proper, had rubbed off on me after all.

* * *

The worst part about a high is the inevitable fall that comes afterwards - the crash when too much drink, or caffeine, or sugar wears off. The same is true with good emotions, and I found that after my shift at the tavern that night, I crashed hard.

Loneliness is a corpulent and unforgiving beast. I could feel it ever present, weighing down against my chest, heavy on my mind as the days slowly dredged by. I could feel it waiting for me, waiting for me to return to my barren, isolated shelter so it could fully indulge itself. After visiting Hall's rather animated household, my own quiet shelter seemed positively hermitic by comparison.

It had only been a fortnight since I entered Dale, but I missed Bofur terribly. I was even beginning to remember Erebor through such a nostalgic haze that I could hardly remember what I had ever disliked about it, for my longing to return to its comfort and familiarity had nearly erased my bad experiences within the mountain and had augmented the good ones.

My days had been growing longer, even though I had taken to trying to sleep in as late as possible. Upon waking, I would keep my eyes shut for while, forcing myself to remain within my dreams where I wasn't so alone.

* * *

Throughout the following week, I began actively seeking Hall's company, he being the only one I had dared to get to know while trying to be Eleanor. He was quickly becoming more of an actual friend, however, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep my own personality from showing too much through what I had been inventing for Eleanor.

I never mentioned him in any of my reports. It wasn't as if I had anything to hide - it was just that I didn't want to get him and his family caught up in something that had nothing to do with them. That, and a small part of me worried that if I got in too deep - and gathering informants was _way _beyond what was expected of me - the dwarves would come and get me by whatever means necessary. I had no doubt that if it looked like I was doing anything even mildly more risky than what I had been assigned, Bofur would decide to pull me out, even if it meant exposing me, exposing my lies, and thereby ruining every relationship I had in Dale...

Bard would never trust me again, and his children would doubtless follow suit. Avis and Cuthbert would perhaps treat me respectfully if I ever visited their tavern, but it would be with strained civility, and the regulars would all whisper about me behind my back. And Hall, I doubted Hall would ever have a bad thing to say about me, and that would make my deceit all the more wretched in my mind. He would feign friendship, but things would never be the same, and behind their closed doors his family would all finally agree on one thing: that I was not now, nor should I ever be again, welcome in the realms of men.


	41. To Heal My Heart and Drown My Woe

February was simply dredging by, as cold and unforgiving as was typical for the time of the year. I arrived at my shift at the tavern one such blustery afternoon and was pleasantly surprised when we were graced with the presence of a solo lute player. He sat in the corner by the fire, plucking out quiet yet pleasing variations, and I had been instructed to bring him a plate of food and drinks on the house, for which he happily agreed to play for the duration of the evening.

Hall arrived soon thereafter, and after questioning the merits of a single lone musician and extolling his own virtues in the same breath, he went on to order a drink, an order which changed from ale to a light wine, and then changed again when he saw me filling a tankard from a new cask at the end.

"Wait, if that's cider I'll have that instead."

I couldn't help but laugh at his indecisiveness. In a way he reminded me of how I had felt once - flighty and awkward, which was resulting in a bit of a soft spot for the young man. As I began to pour his drink, I admonished him sarcastically over my shoulder.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want a glass of port instead? Or brandy? Or why not a nice cup of tea? It's not too late to change your mind you know." I set the mug before him, but didn't slide it across the bar quite yet.

He never seemed to understand my sarcasm - that, or he was far too clever for it (and despite outward appearances, as I got to know him better I was beginning to suspect the latter), but in any case he responded as if oblivious to my teasing.

"Just cider, thanks. Brandy is too rich a drink for a working man like me."

I idly glanced towards the door as a swirl of cold wind and snow gusted in along with more customers. A group of dwarves, yet I could tell at first glance they were not the typical labourers that often frequented. Likely they were among those newly assigned to help with Dale's water crisis. I was about to turn away, to return to my duties unbothered, when the corner of my eye caught sight of someone I was altogether too intimately familiar with to ignore.

Bofur had followed the others in.

I froze momentarily as I watched him swipe snow off his jacket, but then I collected my wits and jolted into action. I left Hall mid-sentence and attempted to side-step towards the backroom, trying to delicately dodge past Avis whom was laden down with a few full plates of roast beef and mashed yam. Bofur, however, had keen eyes, and they landed on me as soon as he looked around the room. For a moment I thought he didn't recognize me, as he simply looked away and followed his companions to one of the larger tables without any further preamble. Yet when he had settled into a chair his gaze lazily travelled back to me and I knew I was found out. His eyebrows knotted just slightly as he locked eyes with mine. I kept my expression neutral even though I was rather aggravated.

I had implicitly told him, ordered him really, not to come to Dale while I was trying to work. He would be too great a distraction and I knew it would be difficult to keep up my facade with him around. To make matters worse, I had not yet reported to the dwarves that I had changed my disguise and felt worried that Bofur, upon seeing me clearly disobeying the careful instructions I had been ordered to follow, would force me to abandon my post on account of being untruthful and reckless.

"Eleanor? What has gotten into you? Best go clear that table! Why, it should have been done ages ago!" Avis harped from behind me. I quickly turned to her and she nodded her head towards the newly arrived dwarven group, whose chosen table had indeed not yet been cleaned off since the previous guests.

With a hasty apology I grabbed an empty tray and bustled towards them, determined not to let Bofur vex me. Hall grinned as I passed by his seat and I acknowledged him with a quick nod. I took a deep breath just as I was approaching the dwarven table, empowering myself to keep up my confidence and act as Eleanor would.

"Sorry, lads. It's been a busy night." I said cheerily as I snuck in beside one and began collecting the used mugs. "Let me just clear this up quick and then I'll get your orders."

I hastened to the other side of the table and leaned past Bofur to grab the last few plates. I let my chest graze 'accidentally' across his shoulder as I dipped forward with my cloth to wipe up a small spill. The familiar smell of his old leather hat, along with undertones of the pipe smoke that clung to his clothing, hit my nostrils and a small pool of ache began to fill my chest. Still, I refrained from even looking at him as I straightened up. I hastened back to the bar to drop off the dishes and steady my resolve. The five other dwarves at the table I did not know, but if I created a scene they might decide to look at me more speculatively, and then perhaps recognize me as the woman that was usually at Bofur's side in the mountain.

When I returned I deliberately waited to take Bofur's order last, and when I finally looked to him, I did so somewhat shyly, hoping my gaze would not betray that my heart rate had picked up at being in his presence.

"No food for me, lass, just bring me two tankards of the stout." he told me, sitting back in his seat.

"Two, master dwarf?" I queried with a small smile, but before he could respond to me another of the unknown dwarves piqued up from behind a very bushy beard.

"Aye lass, this young lad here's got a powerful thirst." he said, nodding at Bofur with a chuckle.

Bofur glared at his companion with mock irritation, and then chided.

"Now now, Harrik, we wouldn't to give this nice woman the wrong impression about us." He turned in his seat to glance back at me. "We're not _all _drunkards and scoundrels, now are we?"

The dwarf, Harrik, laughed raucously. "Scoundrels? Nay." he cajoled. "I believe the way _you_ used to describe yourself was 'roguish' and 'charming', and half the dams in the Blue Mountains would agree with you in that - some of the dwarves as well, I'd wager."

I raised my eyebrows and grinned a little at Bofur but he simply smirked, his eyes twinkling, and did not rise to the teasing. As I left to fetch their drinks I heard another one of the dwarves speak up.

"I hear you've got a fancy for human maids now Bofur? Do we need to be keepin' an eye on you tonight? Our server seems fair enough..."

I bit back a smile as I left their earshot.

It took me several trips to and from the bar to deliver their order of drinks, plus the food a few of the older dwarves had asked for, and by that time a few of the dwarves, including Bofur, had already wetted their beards and were requesting refills.

Hall managed to catch my arm as I whisked by, ordering another cup of the cider.

"You look tired." he observed after I returned with his mug.

I nodded slightly. "Dwarves, they do drink a lot, I'll be running all night." I commented, taking a minute to catch my breath.

"Don't work yourself into the ground, not worth it." he chided, glancing towards the dwarven party with a slight frown, he then glanced back up at me with a smile. "When is your next day off? Mabel has been pestering me to take her out ice fishing, why don't you join us?"

"I can take a day off whenever really." I replied quietly after a moment's thought. "We'll talk later though." I added before excusing myself to go fill a full pitcher of stout so that I could renew the dwarves' drink levels once more.

"-what he builds with one hand he breaks with the other!" Harrik was stating loudly when I reached their table's edge. "I swear, you'd think he hadn't even grown a beard yet, seems as green as a smooth-face."

"Oh, who's this now?" I asked good-naturedly as I poured refills. Normally I wouldn't engage in much conversation with the dwarven guests, simply because they typically seemed to wish to keep to themselves, often just nodding to get my attention and grumbling a quick thank you - if I was lucky. This group, however, was much more socially spirited - not that I was surprised. Either by Bofur's presence, or simply because Bofur would choose to surround himself with a more energetic calibre of dwarves to partake in after-hours drinking with, the group seemed keen to engage in friendly exchanges and banter with anyone who dared approach them.

"Harrik's understudy, if you'd call him that." A black haired dwarf replied as he held up his empty mug for me to fill. "Poor lad likely won't have much of a beard left after his trainin', no doubt stress'll be doing him in with such a dour instructor."

Harrik grunted something which made the others laugh as I moved next to Bofur, who said he'd pay for the round. It seemed they were taking turns, which made it far easier not having to collect proper fare from every dwarf after each refill.

"Don't forget to tip our nice server." one of the others piped up before busying himself in his drink.

Bofur counted out a few copper coins from his purse, just enough to cover the cost of the drinks, and then cast a sidelong glance up at me from beneath the brow of his hat. I smiled my sweetest smile in return.

"Go on then, Bofur. Be generous with the lass, or I'll tell your - ah - betrothed you've been unkind to a fellow Laketowner." Harrik encouraged.

Bofur rolled his eyes and swept the copper back into his pouch, then reached a hand into his breast pocket and drew out a heavy coin of gold from his coat, setting it pointedly down on the table while eyeing Harrik admonishingly. He then looked up to me and matched my own smile.

"I believe this should cover it - and all the rounds to come, plus a tidy bit besides for you and the owners to split."

During the search for the Arkenstone, I had tossed handfuls of gold aside like it was worth less than dirt. I had climbed mountains of the stuff that were taller than most houses, ate, slept and even had intimate relations all within sight of more gold than I could ever have dreamed existed. I had danced on a floor of it larger than an entire district in Laketown. I had, in short, been exposed to it for months of my life on end, and yet here the shiny yellow metal was like a magnet drawing the eyes of those sober enough to catch sight of it. This was more than I would make in an entire month working at the tavern, and to my credit I recovered quick enough to make a show of it.

"Oh golly..." I whispered, quickly picking up the coin to hide it in my hand. My face lit up as I inspected it, and the dwarves around the table shared a chuckle at what they supposed was genuine shock.

"Is this real dragon gold?" I asked with as much bewilderment as I could fake, looking around at the group of dwarves. Bofur had crossed his arms and leaned back, a smug grin on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, feeling himself awfully clever no doubt. I would have swatted him in the arm if I could have gotten away with it, but as it was he would be allowed to have his fun.

"Real _dwarven_ gold." The black haired dwarf corrected, and then the one who had encouraged Bofur to tip placed a hand on that dwarf's arm.

"Now now, no need to lecture, less we wish to live up to our cranky reputation - mind if we do, the next time we're in the village, we might find ourselves without a place to warm our bellies." The others nodded to themselves at this sage dwarven advice, and the gentlemanly dwarf continued with a kind smile that tugged up the corners of his beard. "Now then, my dear, what might we call you?"

"Eleanor..." I began by way of introduction, though the name seemed to come from more than one place at the same time. I looked around, realized there were more tables to wait, and apologized hastily. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't neglect the others for so long. Thank you for your _generous_ patronage." I added while looking at Bofur, ending a very rough courtesy for effect. He nodded his head in response, which I took it to mean 'well done'.

Maybe, just maybe, he could be convinced that I was up to this task after all.

* * *

The tavern grew steadily busier as the evening wore on, and I found I had hardly any time to spare, let alone time to puzzle out what I was going to do about Bofur being here. The most rational thing to do was to simply carry on like it was any other night, and he any other patron, but I felt as though that would be an awful waste of an opportunity to talk to the one I loved, and to reconnect with all that I was beginning to long for - to remind myself of all that I was trying to protect by being here.

A trained spy would no doubt frown on us even being in the same room together, lest someone unveil the connection between us just by association. Still, I couldn't foresee any chance of speaking to him privately, and to do so publically would risk exposing my real identity. Besides, the lute player was on point tonight, and the crowd was growing raucous as the evening grew late and the tables filled with folks looking to stave off the chill and dreariness of a long winter night.

With each round of drinks the din of the tavern became louder, and the patrons became more restless. Men and women, some who had no business standing, let alone walking at this point, scraped their chairs across the floor, banged on tables, and shouted bets on whatever game of chance was being played in their part of the room. The musician seemed to be keeping up with them though, the melodies he played still first and foremost amongst the din, but I couldn't help but wonder at the abuse his instrument must be going through in order to produce such volume, and sure enough after a particularly noisy bout in which a game of cards nearly erupted into a fist fight, one of the bard's strings broke with a discordant twang that resonated throughout the tavern.

The sudden silence that resonated afterwards was jarring, as the crowd struggled to adjust to the lack of the music which had been so prominent since the beginning of the night. Even the near-brawl was avoided, and I, having been busy filling a drink when the event happened, came very close to spilling beer all over myself. I hastily twisted the tap closed and used the moment's stillness to deliver the overflowing drink to the one who had ordered it without much risk.

As I set the drink down, the musician struck the chords of a familiar drinking song, one that had been played often back in Bree. It was a simple song, and easily achievable with a missing string. Its simplicity also made it a natural favourite of people too far into their cups to remember anything but the simplest of tunes. A hearty cheer rang throughout the room, and in the rush of excitement I noticed with some humour that half of the drink I had just delivered was now sloshed all over the table where it sat.

The lutesmith played the tune with no small degree of skill, his nimble fingers more than making up for the broken string as his voice rang out, accompanied by those patrons drunk enough to join in on the first round. I made my way back to the bar, where I noticed Hall was one of the few not hanging on every note of every verse.

"Hall, if you're still unimpressed by the fellow, I'm going to insist you put your money where your mouth is. Why don't you go fetch your lute? No doubt he would welcome a challenge from such a worthy opponent." I raised my eyebrows suggestively, but Hall shook his head.

"A lute? What makes you think I own a lute?" He questioned with a furrowed brow.

"Oh, I just assumed you did since you were so quick to criticize the poor man when you arrived... besides, I could picture you having an artistic side-hobby, you're very sensitive, you know. Perhaps you play the harp instead, or a crumhorn maybe?"

Hall squinted at me. "No. Wait - you think I'm sensitive? I've been called a lot of things, but never sensitive. Do you think I'm_ too_ sensitive?"

"Oh don't trouble yourself, I was simply teasing you." I huffed with a small laugh. I noticed then that Bofur's table was mostly emptied, save for Bofur himself and one other dwarf at the far end. The rest had vacated their seats for the time being in order to join in with the lively singing around the fire.

I left Hall to his indignation and wandered over to my intended, grabbing out my cleaning cloth from my apron so that I would have an excuse to linger at his table.

As I approached, Bofur looked up, and only I noticed his eyes quickly travel the length of my body, yet it was warm and rather dim inside, so even if I did flush, no one would be the wiser.

"So, _Eleanor_, was it?" he ventured slowly.

I moved close beside him and began wiping up some of the nearby spills. "Hush." I warned quietly, keeping my eyes to my work. "I've missed you." I added in the quietest of whispers, knowing he had good enough hearing to pick up my words even through the boisterous music and loud drunken conversations that were playing out around us.

"Then come home." he replied under his breath.

I paused in my cleaning and shook my head slightly. "Just a little longer. I think I'm really onto something." I murmured.

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, leaning forward slightly to be nearer to me. "What are you doing?" he asked rather imploringly. "You told me once you never wanted to work in a place like this again... what do you think you can you accomplish here?"

I sighed and did not respond. I knew a part of him was right, and that fact infuriated me. I could easily choose to give all of my collected information to the dwarves and then just leave it to the professionals, so to speak. After all, I was spending a needless amount of time simply working at the tavern and gaining very little useful information doing so. Yet I also knew that leaving Dale now, when I might be so close to achieving something purposeful, would leave me forever feeling like this entire span of my life was wasted and without conclusion.

I noticed the crowd had begun a course of a new song that caused even more rowdiness than the last. I knew I'd soon be needed to refill drinks; it was looking to be a very profitable night.

I looked up, finally meeting Bofur's gaze. Even though I was frustrated with him, his gleaming eyes caused a small pool of desire to bloom within me and I fought the urge to close the distance between us. I wanted to bury my nose in his jacket, and inhale his familiar, comforting scent that I so sorely missed. I wanted to press my lips to his and forget the world through his touch. I wanted him to speak to me, unguarded, and utter my true name. I wanted him, badly, and it took most of my resolve to resist.

I licked my lips, gripping my cleaning cloth in a vice. Bofur grinned slyly as if he could read my thoughts, though I could tell by his expression that he was slightly drunk. His following actions paid testament to my assumption. Before I could back away, his arm curled around my waist and he tugged me down onto his lap. I stifled a shriek and struggled to get up.

"Let me go!" I hissed as he nuzzled into my neck. "You're going to ruin everything!"

"Nah, I'm just a tipsy guest that's a bit handsy with the wenches, no one will pay any mind... unless you keep struggling that is." Bofur said into my ear and I calmed a little at his words, deciding it really was best not to make a scene - and I did truly enjoy the feel of his arms around me after so long apart.

"That's better." he commented happily, his hand gripping my thigh over my skirts.

"Tipsy is right." I grumbled, still feeling quite panicky that this display would jeopardize my identity. "I'm cutting you off. Now please, let me up before you blow my cover."

Fortunately Bofur conceded and relaxed his arm. I quickly got to my feet and straightened up, though Bofur gently took hold of my hand before I moved off. I looked at him more gently, though my composure was still tense with agitation at his careless intimacy when I was trying so hard to be anonymous.

"I could meet you, back where you're staying, I would be careful. No one would know I was there." he proposed and his hopefulness made my heart sink with guilt.

I shook my head at him again, it would be too risky.

I inwardly cringed when I heard Hall's voice erupt from just beside us.

"Hey, is this guy bothering you?" he asked loudly.

I grimaced, and Bofur's eyebrows shot up, then we both looked at the interference with a mixture of incredulity and annoyance.

Hall frowned at Bofur a moment before his glance jumped back to me. I quickly shook my head, trying to glare at him with such conviction that he might let it alone for once. Bofur, much to my chagrin, decided to speak up.

"I suggest you leave us be, lad." he said in a rather dark tone. I shot him a look, but he was staring at Hall rather threateningly, no doubt his boldness being fuelled by the drink.

Hall, mistaking the cause of my clear discomfort, stepped forward slightly in front of me."Look buddy, this is a nice place. Good, hard working men and women looking to have a drink after work, and I'm sure a lot of us would agree that while your kind is welcome, we won't tolerate - ah - lewd behaviour here."

"Welcome, eh? My kind is _welcome_, is it? And as for lewd behaviour, what would you know of it, lad?" Bofur asked icily, heaving himself up out of his chair with an ease that was shocking in his inebriated state. "Since I've come in, I've seen all manner of men and women engaged in _lewd_ behaviour. There's a pair in the corner who are just _one layer _of clothing away from copulating on the table, for Durin's sake, and yet I'm to take that the moment a _dwarf_ has words with one of _your _women, you feel the need to come running to her rescue?"

Hall, to his credit, stood his ground. Bofur's posture was solid as a mountain, challenging, and yet Hall stood firm. Maybe I fed him one too many ciders earlier in the night. In any case, he seemed determined to push his case. I resisted the urge to pull my own hair in frustration as I watched the exchange quickly get out of hand.

"It looked like a lot more than words." he pointed out, a scowl forming across his features.

"It's none of your business." Bofur growled. "And unless you're one of the owners of this fine establishment, I would urge you to keep it that way."

Hall puffed up even more but before he could do anything stupid I cut him off.

"Hall, please, I'm _fine_. Go back to your seat." I stressed, hoping to diffuse the situation before the two idiots drew even more attention to me.

"But-" he began, but I put my hands on my hips and scowled at him as resolutely as I could.

"Go!" I snapped.

With slightly sagged shoulders we watched Hall turn and disappear into the crowd towards the bar. I rounded on Bofur, who had returned to his seat but was still harbouring a dark expression.

"Who was that?" he asked carefully.

"Nobody," I whispered angrily, "And I thank you for nearly starting a fight. Are you trying to oust me right here and now? Do you want me to look like a complete fool in front of all these people? ...I think you need to leave."

Bofur smiled somewhat lazily, his eyes guarded, and got to his feet once more. "As you wish." he said and then strolled past me towards the door without another word or backward glance.

I stood rooted to the spot for a moment, feeling a chill of emotion pass through me. I then hurried up to the bar to see Cuthbert and Avis looking quite harried and sweaty from the evening of relentless business so far. I squeezed in between the drinking men and carefully leaned over the now very sloppy, wet bar-top to address Avis.

"The guest that just left, he'd forgotten something at his table." I told her, pointedly ignoring Hall who was watching me from nearby. "Can I run out and try to catch him? I'll just be a moment, and he tipped us well so it seems only fair."

She nodded and shooed me off so I quickly dashed out the door, not quite prepared for the onslaught of snowy frigid wind that hit me the moment I exited the hot tavern. The weather had turned foul since I had started my shift. I crossed my arms and squinted into the night, taking a few uncertain steps forward. I followed what seemed to be the freshest set of footprints and when I turned down a more sheltered side street I saw Bofur's form some ways ahead. The area was otherwise empty, the wind quite loud, so I shouted his name without much fear of being overheard by anyone else. He stopped and turned towards me as I ran up to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a surprised tone, though some of his usual cheer was once again lacing his voice as his hands came up to rub my cold arms. I bent a little and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth.

"I'm sorry," I lamented when I pulled back. "please stop being angry with me. Just give me a _little _longer?"

"Hey, now. I'm not angry with you." he assured, leading me closer to the aged walls of the buildings lining the street to better be out of the wind. "If it's that important to you, then stay, just promise me you won't put yourself at risk."

I nodded, knowing I just needed to confirm the identities of the men I suspected. I knew that if I lingered much longer, the temptation to invite him back to my house would grow too great, and so I planted one last soft kiss on his lips, and then turned to dash back towards the inn without another word.


	42. A Conspiracy Unmasked

The next week passed in a flurry of activity as preparations for Adelaide's festival ramped up in earnest. To ease the blow to Hall's ego the night Bofur had visited the tavern, I spent as much time with him and his family as I could spare, hoping that keeping him busy through my eagerness would keep him from questioning me about the strange, handsy dwarf.

"Oh cheer up!" I urged, laughing at the rather defeated look on Hall's face as we returned to his home after ice fishing. "At least we caught something. It was fun."

"_You and Mabel_ caught something. I spent the morning baiting your hooks and otherwise failing horribly as a fisherman."

Mabel giggled, passing off our outerwear to the butler. "Oh Hall, don't worry, we know your skills lie elsewhere. You're a superior merchant after all - and speaking of, Adelaide asked me to tell you to meet her at the new warehouse after dinner. Apparently her new beau needs to store some party supplies there."

Hall sighed. "More? We just acquired ownership of the place and she has it halfway full already. I haven't even met this mysterious new suitor of hers."

"She seems to be keeping him well away, likely doesn't want us all scaring him off." Mabel commented with a grin as we entered the sitting room.

"Can you blame her?" I asked wryly, "you are a rather terrifying lot."

"Just as well." Hall's grandmother commented from the corner where she was sitting by one of the windows overlooking the street, her hearing clearly still quite sharp. "Far better anyone coming into this family be prepared. So long as he's human." she mumbled under her breath as she returned her gazing to the frosty world beyond the windowpanes.

I glanced at Mabel who smiled sheepishly. "Adelaide once had a fancy to run away with an elf." she explained quietly. "Can you imagine?"

Judging by the way she said it, and by some of Hall's earlier unintentionally racist comments, I knew that a relationship with a dwarf would be even more scandalous in this family's eyes.

* * *

The snowy weather that had heralded Bofur's visit to the tavern continued, and while it meant more work for the people of Dale, the warmth that came with the cloud cover was welcome. Temperatures hovered at a comfortable winter temperature - the kind that was easily warded off by dressing appropriately, but not too warm as to turn the whole world to slush and muck. Tempers improved around the town, and it seemed that the festival atmosphere was permeating out into the streets even days before the main event.

The news that the underground aquifers had finally been purified only served to lift spirits higher, and as all the doom and gloom and bad feelings began to melt away, I couldn't help but to question my previous suspicions. Maybe I really had been imagining everything.

I resolved to reserve further judgement until after the festival, and if nothing happened by then, I would rethink my situation here. After all, if anything bad _was_ going to happen, surely it would happen while all the citizens of Dale were gathered together in celebration.

Still, it would be bitter sweet to leave Hall's family and the makeshift life I was currently living. Though I missed the mountain, I was beginning to appreciate the simplicity of a rather normal human existence (even as muddled as mine was, what with my disguise and constant fear of encountering Bard). I even got to know Adelaide a bit better on the day before the big event, as we had spent the afternoon before my shift at the tavern going over the drink lists with Cuthbert and Avis. Still no sign of her elusive new man (perhaps he was an elf after all), and Hall was also strangely absent, though I expected it was partly to do with the fact that he still harboured some bad feelings about last time he came to the alehouse - he really was quite sensitive after all.

The day of the festival dawned with an excited buzz and the streets were alive and bustling well before what was typical. I was designated to work during the morning to help finish the last of the food preparations and decorating before the events were set to begin in the late afternoon. By the mid-day bell, though, the tavern was already filling up. Before I left, I did Avis and Cuthbert the courtesy of asking if they were sure they did not need me that evening.

"Don't you be worrying yourself Eleanor." Cuthbert assured me. "We've hired on some extra help for cleaning and such, younger lasses looking to make a bit of coin to spend at the festival, in exchange for an hour's hard work. Besides, you saved us a lot of effort by doing inventory with your friend yesterday."

I wasn't quite sure what to think of the fact that I could be replaced by a gaggle of untrained youth, but in reality I knew for a fact that the work itself was dull and repetitive, and that it was only the interaction with (and gathering information from) the customers that made it worth doing, and so I graciously accepted the time off.

* * *

I returned home to find all three of Hall's sisters waiting for me, and my first thought was one of dismay over the fact that they had now seen what a humble dwelling I lived in. It was doubled when I invited them inside, and for the first time since arriving, I realized how pitifully small it was with four humans crammed in together. They looked dreadfully out of place, jumbled between the bed, the small table, and the fireplace, already dressed in their finery for the festival.

"When Hall mentioned you lived on this end of town, I wasn't quite sure what to expect." Rosalin mentioned, keeping her tone polite enough but doing little to mask the small air of discomfort that she was giving off. Her younger sisters were much less fazed by it however, and Adelaide busied herself with bringing the embers of my morning fire back to life while Mabel revealed a large package she had been holding somewhat clumsily behind her back.

"The girls and I were talking," Rosalin continued, perching herself on the very edge of the bed. "...and we noticed that your wardrobe seemed somewhat..." She looked me over in my working attire, but before she could bring herself to come up with a descriptor that, though kind sounding, would conceal her snobbery, the middle sibling intervened on her behalf, shooting her a snide look which was returned in earnest.

"We bought you a dress." Adelaide said, straight to the point, straightening up after the fire started snapping into life. Mabel smiled and nodded excitedly, oblivious to her sisters' silent quarrel, as I looked over to her and the parcel. She couldn't help but interrupt Adelaide in turn, which earned her a snide look as well.

"You look about the same size as Rosalin. We really do hope it fits!" She placed it on the table and stepped back as I approached. I reached tentatively out for the paper before halting in thought. My whole life with these people was a lie, and yet still they had accepted me - a 'commoner' to them - just because I was friends with their brother. Would accepting this put me in their debt? Would it imply a relationship with them - with Hall - that I wasn't able to give? On top of all that, even with all their wealth, I had dresses back in Erebor that would likely be worth more than what they were wearing now.

"Well, get on with it." Rosalin urged, with just enough crass and impatience that I was snapped from my reverie.

With a self-conscious smile, I unveiled the new garment and held it up on front of me; it was a floor length dress of a pale pink fabric with a swooping neckline trimmed with a delicate white silk. Unlike the design of the dwarven dresses, this had more minimal bustling around the hips and was meant to showcase a taller, more slender form.

"It's lovely! Though you really shouldn't have-" I began but was immediately cut off by Rosalin.

"Oh, spare us the humility and just wear the blasted thing." she admonished, sweeping towards the door. As it clattered shut behind her, the three of us were left in the wake of her blunt final words. The remaining two sisters looked about my small, humble dwelling once more, before glancing at each other, and then to me. It seemed they were reluctant to leave; perhaps they realized the gravity of their gift and thought it might be quite dismal for me to change into it and get ready all alone in such a deprived atmosphere. Rosalin suddenly pushed back through the door with a huff, apparently having come to the same realization.

"On second thought, you'd best just come back to the house with us. We're going to need all the help we can get to have you ready by the time the festivities start."

* * *

True to her word, Rosalin, had me ready before the hour was up, though she was also accurate in that it took the help of Mabel and two maids to accomplish the task. Adelaide was of less use, but that was to be expected as she had to run off every few minutes to inform the butler and his messengers of some other near-forgotten task that had to be completed in short order.

Hall was expressly forbidden to help, at first for the obvious reasons of my being down to my shift, but later because his sisters seemed keen on keeping my transformation a surprise to all but those who were absolutely necessary. When he finally was allowed to see me, in the company of his mother and grandmother in their sitting room, he complimented me politely, but it was overshadowed by his grandmother's remark - something about bringing Gondorian culture to the barbaric northerners. I had to admit, the dress, despite being tailored at a glance and a guess, fit me in ways that Méra, no matter how hard she tried, had not yet been able to achieve.

We left the house presently, the entire family, to experience the first thrills of the festival together. Adelaide proudly led us towards the main square, but even before we got there we were encountering games, and food, and general merrymaking that ensued. Our guide, ironically, was the first to abandon us, rushing off to tend to yet another matter that only she could manage. Flora seemed inclined to speak up and stop her, but the household's matriarch intervened.

"If she feels she needs to take the weight of the world on her shoulders, let her be my dear. Otherwise the worry over it will keep her from enjoying herself no matter where she is or who she is with."

After some games and entertainment, Hall's mother and grandmother made a strong case for dining at the Great Hall. I would have been inclined to join them, had they not pointed out that due to their high standing they could expect a seat near the Head Table, where Bard and his family would be seated. Instead, I asked Hall if there were any pavilions or vendors that had traditional Gondorian fare. He assured me there was - his family had imported all the ingredients in fact - and so our party diminished once again.

We lost Mabel immediately afterwards to a group of similarly aged girls, and so Hall and I found food in relative peace before returning to the middle of the square. By this time, the winter sun was already tucking down behind the mountains, and braziers were being lit to ward off the cold and the darkness. It was at that moment that Adelaide caught up to us, looking equal parts excited, flustered and annoyed.

"Hall, the warehouse is unlocked right?" she asked in some slight panic. "The fireworks are stored inside. I think they plan to move them out soon."

"Um." Hall stated unhelpfully, squinting his eyes in thought.

Adelaide sighed, rolling her eyes at her brother. "If you can't remember, can you just run down there quick to make sure?"

Hall looked about to refuse, and a glance my way suggested he was considering using me as an excuse. In spending time with Adelaide though, I had determined that out of all the sisters, she seemed to have the worst of luck. She needed a win tonight.

"Go on." I encouraged him, waving him off. "Be useful, I'll be waiting here when you get back."

"Eleanor can keep me company while I check on a few vendors." Adelaide commented, hooking my arm through hers.

"I have to go alone?" he asked glumly.

I smiled with a shrug. "I don't want to walk all the way to the warehouse." I replied teasingly.

"Fine. I'll be back shortly." He huffed and turned on his heel, striding out of our midst as fast as he could weave through the crowd.

Adelaide led me to the nearest stand, letting go of my arm to lean over and talk with its recipient.

The burst of bright colour that suddenly manifested high in the sky above was unexpected, and the accompanied thunderclap made me violently jump. I recovered myself quickly, and then looked about to make sure no one had seen the embarrassing moment. The surrounding crowd, however, was too preoccupied cheering and clapping at the surprising start of the evening's main event.

Adelaide stepped up next to me, staring upwards even though the sky was dark once more.

"Oh. They must have gotten the supplies already." she said loudly into my ear. "I guess it _had_ been unlocked after all."

"Poor Hall." I replied, wondering if he had made it very far towards the warehouse. Another firework erupted above our heads, this one even grander than the last. Adelaide pressed a handful of candied nuts into my hand, samples from the man she had just been talking to, and then nodded over towards an alley cutting through to where, now that I looked harder, I could see one of the locations where the rockets were being set off.

"I'll be back in a bit. They seem to be running a bit behind schedule, maybe they need my help."

I nodded in understanding, and was considering offering to go along rather than waiting here alone, but then I reasoned that Hall wouldn't know where we had gone, and so I resolved to stay. I popped another nut into my mouth, peering inquisitively down the alleyway to possibly be forewarned of the next brilliant detonation, but what I saw in the alley piqued my curiosity far more than fireworks ever could.

Adelaide's illusive suitor.

She had been hailed by a group of men who were keeping passer-bys from entering the alley, but they seemed to know her quite well and allowed her to join them. When she lovingly grabbed the hand of one of them and linked her fingers through his, I knew this must be the one she had hidden from her family for so long. My curiosity made a fool of me though, as my staring seemed to have been noticed by the man. He was staring right back in my direction, rather intently, and then he turned to look at Adelaide.

I recognized his profile with a gasp.

One of the men I had been searching for all this time.

It was without doubt. The man had a certain posture and way about him, not to mention the fact that he was bulkier and meaner looking than most Laketown men. All my pent up anticipation leading to this moment burst free, and before I could stop myself I reacted, starting towards the couple with a sudden urgency.

Yet before I had made it more than three steps, a large hand grabbed my forearm yanked me to the side.

"Hey! What the-" I yelled, trying to wrench free. My struggling abated as I recognized my captor.

"Come with us, lassie. You're done here. No time to explain." Dwalin growled, pulling me forward towards a small group of waiting dwarves despite my hesitation.

"Wait, wait. Dwalin. Stop." I tried to command over the din of the excited townsfolk. My objections were completely drowned out by another round of fireworks exploding in the air behind us. I tried to crane my neck around to look back at Adelaide and the man.

"Dwalin, I think something bad is going to happen!" I shouted, trying unsuccessfully to grind my heels to a halt, but he was pulling me with such relentlessness I worried my arm might dislocate if I wasn't careful. He paused momentarily and jerked me up alongside him.

"We know, lass." he said, glancing up at me. "We're on it. Now stop your struggling and let's go!"

His loud and pressing tone made me move my feet with less faltering. Dwalin quickly ordered something to his comrades in dwarvish, and then forced his way through the crowd, shouting at those that did not allow us to pass with haste. Once we reached the outskirts of the square, he began leading me up a quieter side street. He refused to waste his breath to explain, even though I tried to protest once more. I was worried for my friends and wondered what exactly he knew and why he was urging me out of the town at a near running pace.

I was wholly unprepared a few moments later when a sudden tremor shook the buildings around us. People staggered and stumbled, but Dwalin's dwarven sure-footedness held us both firm in place. I pulled loose enough to turn around, only to flinch at the sudden brightness and heat thrown off of the fireball that was now climbing into the sky from somewhere deeper in the city.

My breath caught in my throat.

My friends were somewhere out there, in the maze of streets, and if they weren't hurt in the initial blast they could very well be in the ensuing panic. For many here in Dale, the scourging of Laketown by dragon-fire was still an open wound, and such an event would threaten to pull even the most steadfast of men into flashbacks of that terrible night. Had we still been so close to the main square, we might have been fighting just to keep abreast of the stampede of bodies right now, but Dwalin's quick pace had taken us to a quieter part of the city.

People were coming to their senses now. Those who knew of family and friends close to the epicentre of the explosion rushed towards the fires that now could be seen burning above the rooftops. The rest fled, and amidst the confusion Dwalin turned me towards him and held my arms with his broad hands. I pulled weakly, a half-hearted attempt, a sick feeling growing in my stomach. I expected him to urge me on roughly, but his voice was almost saddened when he spoke.

"Lass, there's naught left to be done here."

I pulled again, though this time with hardly any resolve left. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

"Not by you, in any case." He went on, and then once he felt I would struggle no more he let his arms drop and turned to beckon me on. "Hate me, if you will, but know that your actions have saved many lives tonight."

I followed, and registered through my numbed state that we were heading north - towards Erebor.

Towards home.

* * *

**A/N: Please take a moment to review and I promise I will keep the chapters coming! Thanks for all your support so far! xo**


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